UNfV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


TOM  BROWN'S   SCHOOL   DAYS. 


PORTRAIT  OF  THOMAS  HUGHES 


TOM  BROWN'S 


SCHOOL   DAYS 


BY  AN   OLD   BOY. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
PORTER    &    COATES. 


4TACK  ANNEX 


TO 

MRS.   ARNOLD, 

OF   FOX   HOWE, 
THIS  BOOK  IS  (WITHOUT  HER   PERMISSION) 

DEDICATED 
BY    THE    AUTHOR, 

WHO   OWES   MORE   THAN   HE  CAN   EVER   ACKNOWLEDGE 
OR   FORGET  TO   HER   AND   HERS. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SIXTH  EDITION. 


I  RECEIVED  the  following  letter  from  an  old  friend 
soon  after  the  last  edition  of  this  book  was  published, 
and  resolved,  if  ever  another  edition  were  called  for,  to 
print  it.  For  it  is  clear  from  this  and  other  like  com- 
ments, that  something  more  should  have  been  said 
expressly  on  the  subject  of  bullying,  and  how  it  is  to 
be  met. 

"  MY  DEAR , 

';  I  blame  myself  for  not  having  earlier  suggested 
whether  you  could  not,  in  another  edition  of  Tom  Brown, 
or  another  story,  denounce  more  decidedly  the  evils  of 
bullying  at  schools.  You  have  indeed  done  so,  and  in  the 
best  way,  by  making  Flashman  the  bully  the  most  con- 
temptible character  ;  but  in  that  scene  of  the  tossing,  and 
similar  passages,  you  hardly  suggest  that  such  things 
should  be  stopped — and  do  not  suggest  any  means  of  put- 
ting an  end  to  them. 

"This  subject  has  been  on  my  mind  for  years.  It  fills 
me  with  grief  and  misery  to  think  what  weak  and  nervous 
children  go  through  at  school — how  their  health  and  charac- 
ter for  life  are  destroyed  by  rough  and  brutal  treatment. 

"  It  was  some  comfort  to  be  under  the  old  delusion  that 
fear  and  nervousness  can  be  cured  by  violence,  and  that 
knocking  about  will  turn  a  timid  boy  into  a  bold  one.  But 
now  we  know  well  enough  that  is  not  true.  Gradually 

7 


8  PREFACE. 

training  a  timid  child  to  do  bold  acts  would  be  most 
desirable ;  but  frightening  him  and  ill-treating  him  will 
not  make  him  courageous.  Every  medical  man  knows  the 
fatal  effects  of  terror,  or  agitation,  or  excitement,  to  nerves 
that  are  over-sensitive.  There  are  different  kinds  of  cour- 
age, as  you  have  shown  in  your  character  of  Arthur. 

"  A  boy  may  have  moral  courage,  and  a  finely-organized 
brain  and  nervous  system.  Such  a  boy  is  calculated,  if 
judiciously  educated,  to  be  a  great,  wise,  and  useful  man  ; 
but  he  may  not  possess  animal  courage  ;  and  one  night's 
tossing,  or  bullying,  may  produce  such  an  injury  to  his 
brain  and  nerves  that  his  usefulness  is  spoiled  for  life.  I 
verily  believe  that  hundreds  of  noble  organizations  are 
thus  destroyed  every  year.  Horse-jockeys  have  learnt  to 
be  wiser  ;  they  know  that  a  highly  nervous  horse  is  utterly 
destroyed  by  harshness.  A  groom  who  tried  to  cure  a  shy- 
ing horse  by  roughness  and  violence,  would  be  discharged 
as  a  brute  and  a  fool.  A  man  who  would  regulate  his 
watch  with  a  crowbar  would  be  considered  an  ass.  But 
the  person  who  thinks  a  child  of  delicate  and  nervous 
organization  can  be  made  bold  by  bullying  is  no  better. 

"  He  can  be  made  bold  by  healthy  exercise  and  games  and 
sports;  but  that  is  quite  a  different  thing.  And  even  these 
games  and  sports  should  bear  some  proportion  to  his 
strength  and  capacities. 

"  I  very  much  doubt  whether  small  children  should  play 
with  big  ones — the  rush  of  a  set  of  great  fellows  at  foot- 
ball, or  the  speed  of  a  cricket-ball  sent  by  a  strong  hitter, 
must  be  very  alarming  to  a  mere  child,  to  a  child  who 
might  stand  up  boldly  enough  among  children  of  his  own 
size  and  height. 

"  Look  at  half-a-dozen  small  children  playing  cricket  by 
themselves ;  how  feeble  are  their  blows,  how  slowly  they 
bowl.  You  can  measure  in  that  way  their  capacity. 


PEEFACE.  9 

"  Tom  Brown  and  his  eleven  were  bold  enough  playing 
against  an  eleven  of  about  their  own  calibre  ;  but  I  sus- 
pect they  would  have  been  in  a  precious  funk  if  they  had 
played  against  eleven  giants,  whose  bowling  bore  the  same 
proportion  to  theirs  that  theirs  does  to  the  small  children's 
above. 

'•  To  return  to  the  tossing.  I  must  say  I  think  some 
means  might  be  devised  to  enable  schoolboys  to  go  to  bed 
in  quietness  and  peace — and  that  some  means  ought  to  be 
devised  and  enforced.  Xo  good,  moral  or  physical,  to 
those  who  bully  or  those  who  are  bullied,  can  ensue  from 
such  scenes  as  take  place  in  the  dormitories  of  schools.  I 
suspect  that  British  wisdom  and  ingenuity  are  sufficient  to 
discover  a  remedy  for  this  evil,  if  directed  in  the  right 
direction. 

':  The  fact  is.  that  the  condition  of  a  small  boy  at  a 
large  school  is  one  of  peculiar  hardship  and  suffering.  He 
is  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  proverbially  the  roughest  things 
in  the  universe — great  schoolboys  ;  and  he  is  deprived  of 
the  protection  which  the  weak  have  in  civilized  society  ; 
for  he  may  not  complain  ;  if  he  does,  he  is  an  outlaw — he 
has  no  protector  but  public  opinion,  and  that  a  public 
opinion  of  the  very  lowest  grade,  the  opinion  of  rude  and 
ignorant  boys. 

••  What  do  schoolboys  know  of  those  deep  questions  of 
moral  and  physical  philosophy,  of  the  anatomy  of  mind 
and  body,  by  which  the  treatment  of  a  child  should  be 
regulated  ? 

••  Why  should  the  laws  of  civilization  be  suspended  for 
schools  ?  Why  should  boys  be  left  to  herd  together  with 
no  law  but  that  of  force  or  cunning  ?  What  would 
become  of  society  if  it  were  constituted  on  the  same  prin- 
ciples ?  It  would  be  plunged  into  anarchy  in  a  week. 

"  One  of  our  judges,  not  long  ago.  refused  to  extend  the 


10  PEEFACE. 

protection  of  the  law  to  a  child  who  had  been  ill-treated 
at  school.  If  a  party  of  navvies  had  given  him  a  licking, 
and  he  had  brought  the  case  before  a  magistrate,  what 
would  he  have  thought  if  the  magistrate  had  refused  to 
protect  him.  on  the  ground  that  if  such  cases  were  brought 
before  him  he  might  have  fifty  a-day  from  one  town 
only? 

"  Now  I  agree  with  you  that  a  constant  supervision  of 
the  master  is  not  desirable  or  possible — and  that  telling 
tales,  or  constantly  referring  to  the  master  for  protection, 
would  only  produce  ill-will  and  worse  treatment. 

"  If  I  rightly  understand  your  book,  it  is  an  effort  to 
improve  the  condition  of  schools  by  improving  the  tone  of 
morality  and  public  opinion  in  them.  But  your  book  con- 
tains the  most  indubitable  proofs  that  the  condition  of  the 
younger  boys  at  public  schools,  except  under  the  rare  dic- 
tatorship of  an  Old  Brooke,  is  one  of  great  hardship  and 
suffering. 

"  A  timid  and  nervous  boy  is  from  morning  till  night  in 
a  state  of  bodily  fear.  He  is  constantly  tormented  when 
trying  to  learn  his  lessons.  His  play-hours  are  occupied 
in  fagging,  in  a  horrid  funk  of  cricket-balls  and  foot-balls, 
and  the  violent  sport  of  creatures  who,  to  him,  are  giants. 
He  goes  to  his  bed  in  fear  and  trembling, — worse  than  the 
reality  of  the  rough  treatment  to  which  he  is  perhaps 
subjected. 

"  I  believe  there  is  only  one  complete  remedy.  It  is  not 
in  magisterial  supervision  ;  nor  in  telling  tales  ;  nor  in 
raising  the  tone  of  public  opinion  among  schoolboys — but 
in  the  separation  of  loys  of  different  ages  into  different 
schools. 

"  There  should  be  at  least  three  different  classes  of 
schools, — the  first  for  boys  from  nine  to  twelve ;  the  sec- 
ond for  boys  from  twelve  to  fifteen :  the  third  for  those 


PKEFACE.  11 

above  fifteen.     And  these  schools  should  be  in  different 
localities. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  certain  amount  of  supervision  by 
the  master  at  those  times  when  there  are  special  occasions 
for  bullying,  e.g.  in  the  long  winter  evenings,  and  when  the 
boys  are  congregated  together  in  the  bedrooms.  Surely  it 
cannot  be  an  impossibility  to  keep  order,  and  protect  the 
weak  at  such  times.  Whatever  evils  might  arise  from 
supervision,  they  could  hardly  be  greater  than  those  pro- 
duced by  a  system  which  divides  boys  into  despots  and 
slaves. 

"  Ever  yours,  very  truly, 

F.  D." 

The  question  of  how  to  adapt  English  public  school 
education  to  nervous  and  sensitive  boys  (often  the 
highest  and  noblest  subjects  which  that  education  has 
to  deal  with)  ought  to  be  looked  at  from  every  point  of 
view.*  I  therefore  add  a  few  extracts  from  the  letter 
of  an  old  friend  and  schoolfellow,  than  \vhom  no  man 
in  England  is  better  able  to  speak  on  the  subject: — 

"  What's  the  use  of  sorting  the  boys  by  ages,  unless  you 
do  so  by  strength  :  and  who  are  often  the  real  bullies  ? 
The  strong  young  dog  of  fourteen,  while  the  victim  may 

*  For  those  who  believe  with  me  in  public  school  education,  the 
fact  stated  in  the  following  extract  from  a  note  of  Mr.  G.  De  Bun- 
sen,  will  be  hailed  with  pleasure,  especially  now  that  our  alliance 
with  Prussia  (the  most  natural  and  healthy  European  alliance  for 
Protestant  England)  is  likely  to  be  so  much  stronger  and  deeper 
than  heretofore.  Speaking  of  this  book,  he  says, — "  The  author  is 
"mistaken  in  saying  that  public  schools,  in  the  English  sense,  are 
"  peculiar  to  England.  Schul  Pforte  (in  the  Prussian  province  of 
"Saxony)  is  similar  in  antiquity  and  institutions.  I  like  his  book 
"all  the  more  for  having  been  there  for  five  years," 


12  PREFACE. 

be  one  year  or  two  years  older  ....  I  deny  the  fact 
about  the  bedrooms :  there  is  trouble  at  times,  and  always 
will  be ;  but  so  there  is  in  nurseries  ; — my  little  girl,  who 
looks  like  an  angel,  was  bullying  the  smallest  twice  to-day. 

'•  Bullying  must  be  fought  with  in  other  ways. — by  get- 
ting not  only  the  Sixth  to  put  it  down,  but  the  lower  fel- 
lows to  scorn  it,  and  by  eradicating  mercilessly  the  incor- 
rigible ;  and  a  master  who  really  cares  for  his  fellows  is 
pretty  sure  to  know  instinctively  who  in  his  house  are 
likely  to  be  bullied,  and,  knowing  a  fellow  to  be  really  vic- 
timized and  harassed,  I  am  sure  that  he  can  stop  it  if  he 
is  resolved.  There  are  many  kinds  of  annoyance — some- 
times of  real  cutting  persecution  for  righteousness'  sake — 
that  he  can't  stop  ;  no  more  could  all  the  ushers  in  the 
world ;  but  he  can  do  very  much  in  many  ways  to  make 
the  shafts  of  the  wicked  pointless. 

"  But  though,  for  quite  other  reasons,  I  don't  like  to  see 
very  young  boys  launched  at  a  public  school,  and  though 
I  don't  deny  (I  wish  I  could)  the  existence  from  time  to 
time  of  bullying,  I  deny  its  being  a  constant  condition  of 
school  life,  and  still  more,  the  possibility  of  meeting  it  by 
the  means  proposed.  .  .  ." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  understate  the  amount  of  bullying  that 
goes  on,  but  my  conviction  is  that  it  must  be  fought,  like 
all  school  evils,  but  it  more  than  any,  by  dynamics  rather 
than  mechanics,  by  getting  the  fellows  to  respect  them- 
selves and  one  another,  rather  than  by  sitting  by  them 
with  a  thick  stick." 

And  now,  having  broken  my  resolution  never  to 
write  a  Preface,  there  are  just  two  or  three  things 
which. I  should  like  to  say  a  word  about. 

Several   persons,  for  whose  judgment  I  have   the 


PKEFACE.  13 

highest  respect,  while  saying  very  kind  things  about 
this  book,  have  added,  that  the  great  fault  of  it  is,  "  too 
much  preaching  ;"  but  they  hope  I  shall  amend  in  this 
matter  should  I  ever  -write  again.  Now  this  I  most 
distinctly  decline  to  do.  Why,  my  whole  object  in 
writing  at  all  was  to  get  the  chance  of  preaching ! 
When  a  man  comes  to  my  time  of  life  and  has  his 
bread  to  make,  and  very  little  time  to  spare,  is  it  likely 
that  he  will  spend  almost  the  whole  of  his  yearly  vaca- 
tion in  writing  a  story  just  to  amuse  people  ?  I  think 
not.  At  any  rate,  I  wouldn't  do  so  myself. 

The  fact  is,  that  I  can  scarcely  ever  call  on  one  of 
my  contemporaries  now-a-days  without  running  across 
a  boy  already  at  school,  or  just  ready  to  go  there,  whose 
bright  looks  and  supple  limbs  remind  me  of  his  father, 
and  our  first  meeting  in  old  times.  I  can  scarcely 
keep  the  Latin  Grammar  out  of  my  own  house  any 
longer ;  and  the  sight  of  sons,  nephews,  and  godsons, 
playing  trap-bat-and-ball,  and  reading  "  Robinson 
Crusoe,"  makes  one  ask  one's  self,  whether  there  isn't 
something  one  would  like  to  say  to  them  before  they 
take  their  first  plunge  into  the  stream  of  life,  away 
from  their  own  homes,  or  while  they  are  yet  shivering 
after  the  first  plunge.  My  sole  object  in  writing  was 
to  preach  to  boys :  if  ever  I  write  again,  it  will  be  to 
preach  to  some  other  age.  I  can't  see  that  a  man  has 
any  business  to  write  at  all  unless  he  has  something 
which  he  thoroughly  believes  and  wants  to  preach 
about.  If  he  has  this,  and  the  chance  of  delivering 


14  PREFACR 

himself  of  it,  let  him  by  all  means  put  it  in  the  shape 
in  which  it  will  be  most  likely  to  get  a  hearing ;  but 
let  him  never  be  so  carried  away  as  to  forget  that 
preaching  is  his  object. 

A  black  soldier,  in  a  West  Indian  regiment,  tied  up 
to  receive  a  couple  of  dozen,  for  drunkenness,  cried  out 
to  his  captain,  who  was  exhorting  him  to  sobriety  in 
future,  "  Cap'n,  if  you  preachee,  preachee ;  and  if  flog- 
gee,  floggee ;  but  no  preachee  and  floggee  too!"  to 
which  his  captain  might  have  replied,  "  No,  Pompey,  I 
must  preach  whenever  I  see  a  chance  of  being  listened 
to,  which  I  never  did  before ;  so  now  you  must  have 
it  all  together ;  and  I  hope  you  may  remember  some 
of  it." 

There  is  one  point  which  has  been  made  by  several 
of  the  Reviewers  who  have  noticed  this  book,  and  it  is 
one  which,  as  I  am  writing  a  Preface,  I  cannot  pass 
over.  They  have  stated  that  the  Rugby  undergraduates 
they  remember  at  the  Universities  were  "  a  solemn 
array,"  "  boys  turned  into  men  before  their  time,"  "a 
semi-political,  semi-sacerdotal  fraternity,"  etc.,  giving 
the  idea  that  Arnold  turned  out  a  set  of  young  square- 
toes,  who  wore  long-fingered  black  gloves  and  talked 
with  a  snuffle.  I  can  only  say  that  their  acquaintance 
must  have  been  limited  and  exceptional.  For  I  am 
sure  that  every  one  who  has  had  anything  like  large  or 
continuous  knowledge  of  boys  brought  up  at  Rugby 
from  the  times  of  which  this  book  treats  down  to  this 
day,  will  bear  me  out  in  saying,  that  the  mark  by 


PREFACE.  15 

•which  you  may  know  them,  is,  their  genial  and  hearty 
freshness  and  youthfulness  of  character.  They  lose 
nothing  of  the  boy  that  is  worth  keeping,  but  build  up 
the  man  upon  it.  This  is  their  differentia  as  Rugby 
boys ;  and  if  they  never  had  it,  or  have  lost  it,  it  must 
be,  not  because  they  were  at  Rugby,  but  in  spite  of 
their  having  been  there  ;  the  stronger  it  is  in  them  the 
more  deeply  you  may  be  sure  have  they  drunk  of  the 
spirit  of  their  school. 

But  this  boyishness  in  the  highest  sense  is  not 
incompatible  with  seriousness, — or  earnestness,  if  you 
like  the  word  better.*  Quite  the  contrary.  And  I  can 
well  believe  that  casual  observers,  who  have  never  been 
intimate  with  Rugby  boys  of  the  true  stamp,  but  have 
met  them  only  in  the  every-day  society  of  the  Univer- 
sities, at  wines,  breakfast-parties,  and  the  like,  may 
have  seen  a  good  deal  more  of  the  serious  or  earnest 
side  of  their  characters  than  of  any  other.  For  the 
more  the  boy  was  alive  in  them  the  less  will  they  have 
been  able  to  conceal  their  thoughts,  or  their  opinion 
of  what  was  taking  place  under  their  noses  ;  and  if  the 
greater  part  of  that  didn't  square  with  their  notions  of 
what  was  right,  very  likely  they  showed  pretty  clearly 
that  it  did  not,  at  whatever  risk  of  being  taken  for 
young  prigs.  They  may  be  open  to  the  charge  of 
having  old  heads  on  young  shoulders ;  I  think  they 

*  "To  him  (Arnold)  and  his  admirers  we  owe  the  substitution  of 
the  word  '  earnest '  for  its  predecessor  'serious.'  " — Edinburgh  Review, 
No.  217,  p.  183. 


16  PREFACE. 

are,  and  always  were,  as  long  as  I  can  remember ;  but 
so  long  as  they  have  young  hearts  to  keep  head  and 
shoulders  in  order,  I,  for  one,  must  think  this  only  a 
gain. 

And  what  gave  Rugby  boys  this  character,  and  has 
enabled  the  School,  I  believe,  to  keep  it  to  this  day  ? 
I  say  fearlessly, — Arnold's  teaching  and  example — 
above  all,  that  part  of  it  which  has  been,  I  will  not  say 
sneered  at,  but  certainly  not  approved — his  unwearied 
zeal  in  creating  "  moral  thoughtfulness  "  in  every  boy 
with  whom  he  came  into  personal  contact. 

He  certainly  did  teach  us — thank  God  for  it ! — that 
we  could  not  cut  our  life  into  slices  and  say,  "  In  this 
slice  your  actions  are  indifferent,  and  you  needn't 
trouble  your  heads  about  them  one  way  or  another; 
but  in  this  slice  mind  what  you  are  about,  for  they  are 
important " — a  pretty  muddle  we  should  have  been  in 
had  he  done  so.  He  taught  us  that  in  this  wonderful 
world,  no  boy  or  man  can  tell  which  of  his  actions  is 
indifferent  and  which  not ;  that  by  a  thoughtless  word 
or  look  we  may  lead  astray  a  brother  for  whom  Christ 
died.  He  taught  us  that  life  is  a  whole,  made  up  of 
actions  and  thoughts  and  longings,  great  and  small, 
noble  and  ignoble ;  therefore  the  only  true  wisdom  for 
boy  or  man  is  to  bring  the  whole  life  into  obedience  to 
Him  whose  world  we  live  in,  and  who  has  purchased  us 
with  His  blood :  and  that  whether  we  eat  or  drink,  or 
whatsoever  we  do,  we  are  to  do  all  in  His  name  and  to 
His  glory ;  in  such  teaching,  faithfully,  as  it  seems  to 


PREFACE.  17 

me,  following  that  of  Paul  of  Tarsus,  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  meaning  what  he  said,  and  who  laid  down  this 
standard  for  every  man  and  boy  in  his  time.  I  think 
it  lies  with  those  who  say  that  such  teaching  will  not 
do  for  us  now,  to  show  why  a  teacher  in  the  nineteenth 
century  is  to  preach  a  lower  standard  than  one  in  the 
first. 

However,  I  won't  say  that  the  Reviewers  have  not  a 
certain  plausible  ground  for  their  dicta.  For  a  short 
time  after  a  boy  has  taken  up  such  a  life  as  Arnold 
would  have  urged  upon  him,  he  has  a  hard  time  of  it. 
He  finds  his  judgment  often  at  fault,  his  body  and 
intellect  running  away  with  him  into  all  sorts  of  pit- 
falls, and  himself  coming  down  with  a  crash.  The 
more  seriously  he  buckles  to  his  work  the  oftener  these 
mischances  seem  to  happen  ;  and  in  the  dust  of  his 
tumbles  and  struggles,  unless  he  is  a  very  extraordinary 
boy,  he  may  often  be  too  severe  on  his  comrades,  may 
think  he  sees  evil  in  things  innocent,  may  give  offence 
when  he  never  meant  it.  At  this  stage  of  his  career, 
I  take  it,  our  Reviewer  comes  across  him,  and,  not 
looking  below  the  surface  (as  a  Reviewer  ought  to  do), 
at  once  sets  the  poor  boy  down  for  a  prig  and  a  Phar- 
isee, when  in  all  likelihood  he  is  one  of  the  humblest 
and  truest  and  most  childlike  of  the  Reviewer's 
acquaintance. 

But  let  our  Reviewer  come  across  him  again  in  a 
year  or  two,  when  the  "thoughtful  life"  has  become 
habitual  to  him,  and  fits  him  as  easily  as  his  skin ; 


18  PREFACE. 

and,  if  he  be  honest,  I  think  he  will  see  cause  to 
reconsider  his  judgment.  For  he  will  find  the  boy, 
grown  into  a  man,  enjoying  every-day  life  as  no  man 
can  who  has  not  found  out  whence  comes  the  capacity 
for  enjoyment,  and  who  is  the  Giver  of  the  least  of 
the  good  things  of  this  world — humble,  as  no  man  can 
be  who  has  not  proved  his  own  powerlessuess  to  do 
right  in  the  smallest  act  which  he  ever  had  to  do — 
tolerant,  as  no  man  can  be  who  does  not  live  daily  and 
hourly  in  the  knowledge  of  how  Perfect  Love  is  for 
ever  about  his  path,  and  bearing  with  and  upholding 
him. 


CONTENTS. 


PART  I. 
CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

THE  BROWN  FAMILY 23 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE  VEAST 45 

CHAPTER  III. 
SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES 71 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  STAGE  COACH 98 

CHAPTER  V. 
RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL 119 

CHAPTER  VI. 
AFTER  THE  MATCH 147 

CHAPTER  VII. 
SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR 171 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE 198 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS 227 

19 


20  CONTENTS. 

PART  II. 

CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

How  THE  TIDE  TURNED  .   .  259 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE  NEW  BOY    .....  276 

CHAPTER  III. 
ARTHUR  MAKES  A  FRIEND  .   .  295 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  BIRD-FANCIERS 314 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  FIGHT 333 

CHAPTER  VI. 
FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL 357 

CHAPTER  VII. 

HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES 380 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH 402 

CHAPTER  IX. 
FINIS  .  432 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Photogravures  by  A.  W.  ELSOX  &.  Co.,  Boston 


PAGE 
PORTRAIT  OF  THOMAS  HUGHES Frontispiece. 

WHITE  HORSE  INN,  UFFINGTON 23 

THE  MANGER,  UFFINGTON 35 

THE  BLOWING  STONE,  UFFINGTOV 39 

THE  CANAL,  UFFINGTON 43 

STREET  IN  UFFINGTON 47 

PARISH  CHURCH,  UFFINGTOM 53 

CRAVEN  ARMS,  UFFINGTON    ......  ,   .........  67 

COTTAGE,  UFFINGTON , 75 

SCHOOL  HOUSE,  UFFINGTOW  .,.,,...,,..,..  81 

HIGH  STREET,  RUGBY ,,...,..  119 

DOOR  OF  HEAD-MASTER'S  HOUSE,  RUGBY 123 

THE  FOOT-BALL  GROUND,  RUGBY 135 

THE  CHAPEL,  RUGBY 177 

HEAD-MASTER'S  HOUSE,  RUGBY , 191 

DOORWAY  OF  RUGBY  SCHOOL , 227 

21 


22  LIST  OF  ILLUSTKATIONS. 

PAGE 

TURRET  OP  DR.  ARNOLD'S  HOUSE,  RUGBY    .......  249 

SPREAD  EAGLE  INN,  KUGBY 259 

FIVES'  COURT,  RUGBY 279 

THE  QUADRANGLE,  KUGBY 315 

DOOR  OF  TURRET,  DR.  ARNOLD'S  HOUSE,  RUGBY  ....  351 

THE  CRICKET  FIELD,  RUGBY 407 


WHITE  HORSE  INN,  UFF/NCTON 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

BY  AN  OLD  BOY. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE   BROWN  FAMILY. 

"  I'm  the  Poet  of  White  Horse  Vale,  sir, 
With  liberal  notions  under  my  cap." 

— Ballad. 

THE  Browns  have  become  illustrious  by  the  pen  of 
Thackeray  and  the  pencil  of  Doyle  within  the  memory 
of  the  young  gentlemen  who  are  now  matriculating  at 
the  Universities.  Notwithstanding  the  well-merited 
but  late  fame  Avhich  has  now  fallen  upon  them,  any 
one  at  all  acquainted  Avith  the  family  must  feel  that 
much  has  yet  to  be  written  and  said  before  the  British 
nation  will  be  properly  sensible  of  how  much  of  its 
greatness  it  owes  to  the  Browns.  For  centuries,  in 
their  quiet,  dogged,  homespun  way,  they  have  been 
subduing  the  earth  in  most  English  counties,  and 
leaving  their  mark  in  American  forests  and  Australian 
uplands.  Wherever  the  fleets  and  armies  of  England 
have  won  renown,  there  stalwart  sons  of  the  Browns 
have  done  yeoman's  work.  With  the  yew  bow  and 
cloth-yard  shaft  at  Cressy  and  Agincourt — with  the 

23 


24  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

brown  bill  and  pike  under  the  brave  Lord  Willoughby 
— with  culverin  and  demi-culverin  against  Spaniards 
and  Dutchmen — with  hand-grenade  and  sabre,  and 
musket  and  bayonet,  under  Rodney  and  St.  Vincent, 
Wolfe  and  Moore,  Nelson  and  Wellington,  they  have 
carried  their  lives  in  their  hands;  getting  hard  knocks 
and  hard  work  in  plenty,  which  was  on  the  whole  what 
they  looked  for,  and  the  best  thing  for  them ;  and 
little  praise  or  pudding,  which  indeed  they  and  most 
of  us  are  better  without.  Talbots  and  Stanleys,  St. 
Maurs,  and  such-like  folk,  have  led  armies,  and  made 
laws  time  out  of  mind ;  but  those  noble  families  would 
be  somewhat  astounded — if  the  accounts  ever  came  to  be 
fairly  taken — to  find  how  small  their  work  for  England 
has  been  by  the  side  of  that  of  the  Browns. 

These  latter,  indeed,  have  until  the  present  genera- 
tion rarely  been  sung  by  poet,  or  chronicled  by  sage. 
They  have  wanted  their  "  sacer  vates,"  having  been 
too  solid  to  rise  to  the  top  by  themselves,  and  not 
having  been  largely  gifted  with  the  talent  of  catching 
hold  of,  and  holding  on  tight  to,  whatever  good  things 
happened  to  be  going, — the  foundation  of  the  fortunes 
of  so  many  noble  families.  But  the  world  goes  on  its 
way,  and  the  wheel  turns,  and  the  wrongs  of  the 
Browns,  like  other  wrongs,  seem  in  a  fair  way  to  get 
righted.  And  this  present  writer  having  for  many 
years  of  his  life  been  a  devout  Brown-worshipper,  and 
moreover  having  the  honor  of  being  nearly  connected 
with  an  eminently  respectable  branch  of  the  great 


THE  BROWN   FAMILY.  25 

Brown  family,  is  anxious,  so  far  as  in  him  lies,  to  help 
the  wheel  over,  and  throw  his  stone  on  to  the  pile. 

However,  gentle  reader,  or  simple  reader,  whichever 
you  may  be,  lest  you  should  be  led  to  waste  your 
precious  time  upon  these  pages,  I  make  so  bold  as  at 
once  to  tell  you  the  sort  of  folk  you'll  have  to  meet 
and  put  up  with,  if  you  and  I  are  to  jog  on  comfort- 
ably together.  You  shall  hear  at  once  what  sort  of 
folk  the  Browns  are,  at  least  my  branch  of  them  ;  and 
then  if  you  don't  like  the  sort,  why.  cut  the  concern  at 
once,  and  let  you  and  I  cry  quits  before  either  of  us 
can  grumble  at  the  other. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Browns  are  a  fighting  family. 
One  may  question  their  wisdom,  or  wit,  or  beauty,  but 
about  their  fight  there  can  be  no  question.  Wherever 
hard  knocks  of  any  kind,  visible  or  invisible,  are 
going,  there  the  Brown  who  is  nearest  must  shove  in 
his  carcase.  And  these  carcases  for  the  most  part 
answer  very  well  to  the  characteristic  propensity  ;  they 
are  a  square-headed  and  snake-necked  generation, 
broad  in  the  shoulder,  deep  in  the  chest,  and  thin  in 
the  flank,  carrying  no  lumber.  Then  for  clanship, 
they  are  as  bad  as  Highlanders ;  it  is  amazing  the 
belief  they  have  in  one  another.  With  them  there  is 
nothing  like  the  Browns,  to  the  third  and  fourth  gen- 
eration. ''Blood  is  thicker  than  water,"  is  one  of 
their  pet  sayings.  They  can't  be  happy  unless  they 
are  always  meeting  one  another.  Xever  were  such 
people  for  family  gatherings,  which,  were  you  a 


26  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

stranger,  or  sensitive,  you  might  think  had  better  not 
have  been  gathered  together.  For  during  the  whole 
time  of  their  being  together  they  luxuriate  in  telling 
one  another  their  minds  on  whatever  subject  turns  up  ; 
and  their  minds  are  wonderfully  antagonist,  and  all 
their  opinions  are  downright  beliefs.  Till  you've 
been  among  them  some  time  and  understand  them, 
you  can't  think  but  that  they  are  quarrelling.  Not  a 
bit  of  it ;  they  love  and  respect  one  another  ten  times 
the  more  after  a  good  set  family  arguing  bout,  and  go 
back,  one  to  his  curacy,  another  to  his  chambers,  and 
another  to  his  regiment,  freshened  for  work,  and  more 
than  ever  convinced  that  the  Browns  are  the  height 
of  company. 

This  family  training  too,  combined  with  their  turn 
for  combativeness,  makes  them  eminently  quixotic. 
They  can't  let  anything  alone  which  they  think  going 
wrong.  They  must  speak  their  mind  about  it,  annoy- 
ing all  easy-going  folk  ;  and  spend  their  time  and 
money  in  having  a  tinker  at  it,  however  hopeless  the 
job.  It  is  an  impossibility  to  a  Brown  to  leave  the 
most  disreputable  lame  dog  on  the  other  side  of  a 
stile.  Most  other  folk  get  tired  of  such  work.  The 
old  Browns,  with  red  faces,  white  whiskers,  and  bald 
heads,  go  on  believing  and  fighting  to  a  green  old  age. 
They  have  always  a  crotchet  going,  till  the  old  man 
with  the  scythe  reaps  and  garners  them  away  for 
troublesome  old  boys  as  they  are. 

And  the  most  provoking  thing  is,  that  no  failures 


THE  BROWN  FAMILY.  27 

knock  them  up  or  make  them  hold  their  hands,  or 
think  you,  or  me,  or  other  sane  people  in  the  right. 
Failures  slide  off  them  like  July  rain  off  a  duck's  back 
feathers.  Jem  and  his  whole  family  turn  out  bad,  and 
cheat  them  one  week,  and  the  next  they  are  doing  the 
same  thing  for  Jack  ;  and  when  he  goes  to  the  tread- 
mill, and  his  wife  and  children  to  the  workhouse,  they 
will  be  on  the  look-out  for  Bill  to  take  his  place. 

However,  it  is  time  for  us  to  get  from  the  general  to 
the  particular ;  so,  leaving  the  great  army  of  Browns, 
who  are  scattered  over  the  whole  empire  on  which  the 
sun  never  sets,  and  whose  general  diffusion  I  take  to 
be  the  chief  cause  of  that  empire's  stability,  let  us  at 
once  fix  our  attention  upon  the  small  nest  of  Browns 
in  which  our  hero  was  hatched,  and  which  dwelt  in 
that  portion  of  the  royal  county  of  Berks  which  is 
called  the  Vale  of  White  Horse. 

Most  of  you  have  probably  travelled  down  the  Great 
Western  Railway  as  far  as  Swindon.  Those  of  you 
who  did  so  Avith  their  eyes  open,  have  been  aware,  soon 
after  leaving  the  Didcot  station,  of  a  fine  range  of  chalk 
hills  running  parallel  with  the  railway  on  the  left  hand 
side  as  you  go  down,  and  distant  some  two  or  three 
miles,  more  or  less,  from  the  line.  The  highest  point 
in  the  range  is  the  White  Horse  Hill,  which  you  come 
in  front  of  just  before  you  stop  at  the  Shrivenham 
station.  If  you  love  English  scenery,  and  have  a  few 
hours  to  spare,  you  can't  do  better,  the  next  time  you 
pass,  than  stop  at  the  Farringdon-road  or  Shrivenham 


28  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

station,  and  make  your  way  to  that  highest  point. 
And  those  who  care  for  the  vague  old  stories  that 
haunt  country  sides  all  about  England,  will  not,  if 
they  are  wise,  be  content  with  only  a  few  hours'  stay  ; 
for,  glorious  as  the  view  is,  the  neighborhood  is  yet 
more  interesting  for  its  relics  of  bygone  times.  I  only 
know  two  English  neighborhoods  thoroughly,  and  in 
each,  within  a  circle  of  five  miles,  there  is  enough  of 
interest  and  beauty  to  last  any  reasonable  man  his  life. 
I  believe  this  to  be  the  case  almost  throughout  the 
country ;  but  each  has  a  special  attraction,  and  none 
can  be  richer  than  the  one  I  am  speaking  of  and 
going  to  introduce  you  to  very  particularly ;  for  on 
this  subject  I  must  be  prosy ;  so  those  that  don't  care 
for  England  in  detail  may  skip  the  chapter. 

0  young  England  !  young  England  !  You  who  are 
born  into  these  racing  railroad  times,  when  there's  a 
Great  Exhibition,  or  some  monster  sight,  every  year; 
and  you  can  get  over  a  couple  of  thousand  miles  of 
ground  for  three  pound  ten,  in  a  five  weeks'  holiday; 
why  don't  you  know  more  of  your  own  birthplaces  ? 
You're  all  in  the  ends  of  the  earth,  it  seems  to  me,  as 
soon  as  you  get  your  necks  out  of  the  educational  col- 
lar, for  midsummer  holidays,  long  vacations,  or  what 
not.  Going  round  Ireland,  with  a  return  ticket,  in  a 
fortnight ;  dropping  your  copies  of  Tennyson  on  the 
tops  of  Swiss  mountains  ;  or  pulling  down  the  Danube 
in  Oxford  racing-boats.  And  when  you  get  home  for 
a  quiet  fortnight,  you  turn  the  steam  off,  and  lie  on 


THE  BROWX  FAMILY.  29 

your  backs  in  the  paternal  garden,  surrounded  by  the 
last  batch  of  books  from  Mudie's  library,  and  half 
bored  to  death.  Well,  well !  I  know  it  has  its  good 
side.  You  all  patter  French  more  or  less,  and  perhaps 
German ;  you  have  seen  men  and  cities,  no  doubt,  and 
have  your  opinions,  such  as  they  are,  about  schools  of 
painting,  high  art,  and  all  that ;  have  seen  the  pict- 
ures at  Dresden  and  the  Louvre,  and  know  the  taste 
of  sour  krout.  All  I  say  is,  you  don't  know  your  own 
lanes  and  woods  and  fields.  Though  YOU  mav  be 

o          •/  v 

chock-full  of  science,  not  one  in  twenty  of  you  knows 
where  to  find  the  wood-sorrel,  or  bee-orchis  which 
grows  in  the  next  wood  or  on  the  down  three  miles  off, 
or  what  the  bog-bean  and  wood-sage  are  good  for. 
And  as  for  the  country  legends,  the  stories  of  the  old 
gable-ended  farmhouses,  the  place  where  the  last  skir- 
mish was  fought  in  the  civil  wars,  where  the  parish 
butts  stood,  where  the  last  highwayman  turned  to  bay, 
where  the  last  ghost  was  laid  by  the  parson,  they're 
gone  out  of  date  altogether. 

Now,  in  my  time,  when  we  got  home  by  the  old 
coach  which  put  us  down  at  the  cross-roads  with  our 
boxes,  the  first  day  of  the  holidays,  and  had  been 
driven  off  by  the  family  coachman,  singing  "  Dulce 
Domum  "  at  the  top  of  our  voices,  there  we  were, 
fixtures,  till  black  Monday  came  round.  We  had  to 
cut  out  our  own  amusements  within  a  walk  or  ride  of 
home.  And  so  we  got  to  know  all  the  country  folk, 
and  their  ways  and  songs  and  stories  by  heart ;  and 


30  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

went  over  the  fields,  and  woods,  and  hills,  again  and 
again,  till  we  made  friends  of  them  all.  We  were 
Berkshire,  or  Gloucestershire,  or  Yorkshire  boys,  and 
you're  young  cosmopolites,  belonging  to  all  counties 
and  no  countries.  No  doubt  it's  all  right — I  dare  say 
it  is.  This  is  the  day  of  large  views  and  glorious 
humanity,  and  all  that ;  but  I  wish  backsword  play 
hadn't  gone  out  in  the  Vale  of  White  Horse,  and  that 
that  confounded  Great  Western  hadn't  carried  away 
Alfred's  Hill  to  make  an  embankment. 

But  to  return  to  the  said  Vale  of  White  Horse,  the 
country  in  which  the  first  scenes  of  this  true  and 
interesting  story  are  laid.  As  I  said,  the  Great  West- 
ern now  runs  right  through  it,  and  it  is  a  land  of  large 
rich  pastures,  bound  by  fox-fences,  and  covered  with 
fine  hedgerow  timber,  with  here  and  there  a  nice  little 
gorse  or  spinney,  where  abideth  poor  Charley,  having 
no  other  cover  to  which  to  betake  himself  for  miles  and 
miles,  when  pushed  out  some  fine  November  morning 
by  the  Old  Berkshire.  Those  who  have  been  there, 
and  well  mounted,  only  know  how  he  and  the  stanch 
little  pack  who  dash  after  him — heads  high  and  sterns 
low  with  a  breast-high  scent — can  consume  the  ground 
at  such  times.  There  being  little  plough-land  and  few 
woods,  the  vale  is  only  an  average  sporting  country, 
except  for  hunting.  The  villages  are  straggling,  queer, 
old-fashioned  places,  the  houses  being  dropped  down 
without  the  least  regularity,  in  nooks  and  out-of-the- 
way  corners  by  the  sides  of  shadowy  lanes  and  foot- 


THE  BROWN  FAMILY.  31 

paths,  each  with  its  patch  of  garden.  They  are  built 
chiefly  of  good  grey  stone,  and  thatched  ;  though  I  see 
that  within  the  last  vear  or  two  the  red-brick  cottages 

w 

are  multiplying,  for  the  vale  is  beginning  to  manufact- 
ure largely  both  brick  and  tiles.  There  are  lots  of 
waste  ground  by  the  side  of  the  roads  in  every  village, 
amounting  often  to  village  greens,  where  feed  the  pigs 
and  ganders  of  the  people ;  and  these  roads  are  old- 
fashioned  homely  roads,  very  dirty  and  badly  made,  and 
hardly  endurable  in  winter,  but  still  pleasant  jog-trot 
roads  running  through  the  great  pasture  lands,  dotted 
here  and  there  with  little  clumps  of  thorns,  where  the 
sleek  kine  are  feeding,  with  no  fence  on  either  side  of 
them,  and  a  gate  at  the  end  of  each  field,  which  makes 
you  get  out  of  your  gig  (if  you  keep  one),  and  gives 
you  a  chance  of  looking  about  you  every  quarter  of  a 
mile. 

One  of  the  moralists  whom  we  sat  under  in  my 
youth, — was  it  the  great  Richard  Swiveller,  or  Mr. 
Stiggins? — says,  "We  are  born  in  a  vale,  and  must 
take  the  consequences  of  being  found  in  such  a  situa- 
tion/' These  consequences,  I,  for  one,  am  ready  to 
encounter.  I  pity  people  who  weren't  born  in  a  vale. 
I  don't  mean  a  flat  country,  but  a  vale — that  is.  a  flat 
country  bounded  by  hills.  The  having  your  hill 
always  in  view,  if  you  choose  to  turn  towards  him, 
that's  the  essence  of  a  vale.  There  he  is  for  ever  in 
the  distance,  your  friend  and  companion ;  you  never 
lose  him  as  you  do  in  hilly  districts. 


32  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

And  then  what  a  hill  is  the  White  Horse  Hill ! 
There  it  stands  right  up  above  all  the  rest,  nine  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea,  and  the  boldest,  bravest  shape 
for  a  chalk  hill  that  you  ever  saw.  Let  us  go  up  to 
the  top  of  him,  and  see  what  is  to  be  found  there.  Ay, 
you  may  well  wonder  and  think  it  odd  you  never  heard 
of  this  before ;  but  wonder  or  not,  as  you  please,  there 
are  hundreds  of  such  things  lying  about  England,  which 
wiser  folk  than  you  know  nothing  of,  and  care  nothing 
for.  Yes,  it's  a  magnificent  Roman  camp,  and  no 
mistake,  with  gates,  and  ditch,  and  mounds,  all  as 
complete  as  it  was  twenty  years  after  the  strong  old 
rogues  left  it.  Here,  right  up  on  the  highest  point, 
from  which  they  say  you  can  see  eleven  counties,  they 
trenched  round  all  the  table-land,  some  twelve  or 
fourteen  acres,  as  was  their  custom,  for  they  couldn't 
bear  anybody  to  overlook  them,  and  made  their  eyry. 
The  ground  falls  away  rapidly  on  all  sides.  Was  there 
ever  such  turf  in  the  whole  world  ?  You  sink  up  to 
your  ankles  at  every  step,  and  yet  the  spring  of  it  is 
delicious.  There  is  always  a  breeze  in  the  "camp,"  as 
it  is  called  ;  and  here  it  lies  just  as  the  Romans  left  it, 
except  the  cairn  on  the  east  side  left  by  her  Majesty's 
corps  of  Sappers  and  Miners  the  other  day,  when  they 
and  the  Engineer  officer  had  finished  their  sojourn 
there,  and  their  surveys  for  the  Ordnance  map  of 
Berkshire.  It  is  altogether  a  place  that  you  won't 
forget — a  place  to  open  a  man's  soul  and  make  him 
prophesy,  as  he  looks  down  on  the  great  Vale  spread 


THE  BROWS   FAMILY.  33 

out  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord  before  him,  and  wave 
on  wave  of  the  mysterious  downs  behind ;  and  to  the 
right  and  left  the  chalk  hills  running  away  into  the 
distance  along  which  he  can  trace  for  miles  the  old 
Roman  road,  ''the  Ridgeway  "  (:' the  Rudge,"  as  the 
country  folk  call  it),  keeping  straight  along  the  highest 
back  of  the  hills  ; — such  a  place  as  Balak  brought 
Balaam  to,  and  told  him  to  prophesy  against  the 
people  in  the  valley  beneath.  And  he  could  not, 
neither  shall  you,  for  they  are  a  people  of  the  Lord 
who  abide  there. 

And  now  we  leave  the  camp,  and  descend  towards 
the  Avest,  and  are  on  the  Ashdown.  We  are  treading 
on  heroes.  It  is  sacred  ground  for  Englishmen,  more 
sacred  than  all  but  one  or  two  fields  where  their  bones 
lie  whitening.  For  this  is  the  actual  place  where  our 
Alfred  won  his  great  battle,  the  battle  of  Ashdown 
("  ^Escendurn  "  in  the  chroniclers),  which  broke  the 
Danish  power,  and  made  England  a  Christian  land. 
The  Danes  held  the  camp  and  the  slope  where  we  are 
standing — the  whole  crown  of  the  hill,  in  fact.  "  The 
heathen  had  beforehand  seized  the  higher  ground,"  as 
old  Asser  says,  having  wasted  everything  behind  them 
from  London,  and  being  just  ready  to  burst  down  on 
the  fair  vale,  Alfred's  own  birthplace  and  heritage. 
And  up  the  heights  came  the  Saxons,  as  they  did  at 
the  Alma.  "  The  Christians  led  up  their  line  from 
the  lower  ground.  There  stood  also  on  that  same  spot 
a  single  thorn-tree,  marvellous  stumpy  (which  we  our- 

3 


34  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS. 

selves  with  our  very  own  eyes  have  seen)."  Bless  the 
old  chronicler  !  does  he  think  nobody  ever  saw  the 
"single  thorn-tree"  but  himself?  Why,  there  it 
stands  to  this  very  day,  just  on  the  edge  of  the  slope, 
and  I  saw  it  not  three  weeks  since ;  an  old  single 
thorn-tree,  "marvellous  stumpy."  At  least  if  it  isn't 
the  same  tree,  it  ought  to  have  been,  for  it's  just  in  the 
place  where  the  battle  must  have  been  won  or  lost — 
"  around  which,  as  I  was  saying,  the  two  lines  of  foe- 
men  came  together  in  battle  with  a  huge  shout.  And 
in  this  place,  one  of  the  two  kings  of  the  heathen,  and 
five  of  his  earls  fell  down  and  died,  and  many  thousands 
of  the  heathen  side  in  the  same  place."  *  After  which 
crowning  mercy,  the  pious  king,  that  there  might 
never  be  wanting  a  sign  and  a  memorial  to  the  country 
side,  carved  out  on  the  northern  side  of  the  chalk  hill, 
under  the  camp,  where  it  is  almost  precipitous,  the 
great  Saxon  white  horse,  which  he  who  will  may  see 
from  the  railway,  and  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
vale,  over  which  it  has  looked  these  thousand  years 
and  more. 

*  "  Pagani  cditiorem  locum  prseoccupaverant.  Christian!  ab  infe- 
riori  loco  aciem  dirigebant.  Erat  quoque  in  eodcm  loco  unica 
spinosa  arbor,  brevis  admodum  (quam  nos  ipsi  nostris  propriis 
oculis  vidimus).  Circa  quam  ergo  hostiles  inter  se  acies  cum 
ingenti  clamore  hostiliter  conveniunt.  Quo  in  loco  alter  de  duobus 
Paganorum  regibus  et  quinque  comites  occisi  occubuerunt,  et  multa 
millia  Paganse  partis  in  eodem  loco.  Cecidit  illic  ergo  Bcegsceg 
Kex,  et  Sidroc  ille  senex  comes,  et  Sidroc  Junior  comes,  et  Obsbern 
comes,"  etc. — Annales  Eerum  Gestarum  jElfredi  Magni,  Auctore  Asserio. 
Recensuit  Franciscus  Wise.  Oxford,  1722,  p.  23. 


THE  MANGER,  UFFINGTON 


THE  BROWN  FAMILY.  35 

Right  down  below  the  White  Horse  is  a  curious 
deep  and  broad  gulley  called  "the  Manger,"  into  one 
side  of  which  the  hills  fall  with  a  series  of  the  most 
lovely  sweeping  curves,  known  as  "  the  Giant's  Stairs  ;" 
they  are  not  a  bit  like  stairs,  but  I  never  saw  anything 
like  them  anywhere  else,  with  their  short  green  turf, 
and  tender  blue-bells,  and  gossamer  and  thistle-down 
gleaming  in  the  sun,  and  the  sheep-paths  running  along 
their  sides  like  ruled  lines. 

The  other  side  of  the  Manger  is  formed  by  the 
Dragon's  Hill,  a  curious  little  round  self  confident 
fellow,  thrown  forward  from  the  range,  and  utterly 
unlike  everything  round  him.  On  this  hill  some 
deliverer  of  mankind,  St.  George,  the  country  folks 
used  to  tell  me,  killed  a  dragon.  Whether  it  were  St. 
George,  I  cannot  say  ;  but  surely  a  dragon  was  killed 
there,  for  you  may  see  the  marks  yet  where  his  blood 
ran  down,  and  more  by  token  the  place  where  it  ran 
down  is  the  easiest  way  up  the  hillside. 

Passing  along  the  Ridgeway  to  the  west  for  about  a 
mile,  we  come  to  a  little  clump  of  young  beech  and 
firs,  with  a  growth  of  thorn  and  privet  underwood. 
Here  you  may  find  nests  of  the  strong  down  partridge 
and  peewit,  but  take  care  that  the  keeper  isn't  down 
upon  you  ;  and  in  the  middle  of  it  is  an  old  cromlech, 
a  huge  flat  stone  raised  on  seven  or  eight  others,  and 
led  up  to  by  a  path,  with  large  single  stones  set  up  on 
each  side.  This  is  Wayland  Smith's  cave,  a  place  of 
classic  fame  now  ;  but  as  Sir  Walter  has  touched  it,  I 


36  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

may  as  well  let  it  alone,  and  refer  you  to  "  Kenihvorth  " 
for  the  legend. 

The  thick  deep  wood  which  you  see  in  the  hollow 
about  a  mile  off,  surrounds  Ashdown  Park,  built  by 
Inigo  Jones.  Four  broad  alleys  are  cut  through  the 
wood  from  circumference  to  centre,  and  each  leads  to 
one  face  of  the  house.  The  mystery  of  the  downs 
hangs  about  house  and  wood,  as  they  stand  there 
alone,  so  unlike  all  around,  with  the  green  slopes 
studded  with  great  stones  just  about  this  part,  stretch- 
ing away  on  all  sides.  It  was  a  wise  Lord  Craven,  I 
think,  who  pitched  his  tent  there. 

Passing  along  the  Ridgeway  to  the  east,  we  soon 
come  to  cultivated  land.  The  downs,  strictly  so 
called,  are  no  more ;  Lincolnshire  farmers  have  been 
imported,  and  the  long  fresh  slopes  are  sheep-walks 
no  more,  but  grow  famous  turnips  and  barley.  One 
of  those  improvers  lives  over  there  at  the  "  Seven 
Barrows"  farm,  another  mystery  of  the  great  downs. 
There  are  the  barrows  still,  solemn  and  silent,  like 
ships  in  the  calm  sea,  the  sepulchres  of  some  sons  of 
men.  But  of  whom  ?  It  is  three  miles  from  the 
White  Horse,  too  far  for  the  slain  of  Ashdown  to  be 
buried  there — who  shall  say  what  heroes  are  waiting 
there?  But  we  must  get  down  into  the  vale  again, 
and  so  away  by  the  Great  Western  Railway  to  town, 
for  time  and  the  printer's  devil  press,  and  it  is  a 
terrible  long  and  slippery  descent,  and  a  shocking  bad 
road.  At  the  bottom,  however,  there  is  a  pleasant 


THE  BROWN  FAMILY.  37 

public,  whereat  we  must  really  take  a  modest  quencher, 
for  the  down  here  is  provocative  of  thirst.  So  we  pull 
up  under  an  old  oak  which  stands  before  the  door. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  your  hill,  landlord  ?" 

"Blawing  STWUN  Hill,  to  be  sure." 

[Reader.     ' '  Sturm  ? ' ' 

AUTHOR.     "Stone,  stupid — the  Blowing  8tone."~\ 

"  And  of  your  house  ?     I  can't  make  out  the  sign." 

"Blawing  Stwun,  sir,"  says  the  landlord,  pouring 
out  his  old  ale  from  a  Toby  Philpot  jug,  with  a  melo- 
dious crash,  into  the  long-necked  glass. 

"What  queer  names!"  say  we,  sighing  at  the  end 
of  our  draught,  and  holding  out  the  glass  to  be  replen- 
ished. 

"  Be'an't  queer  at  all,  as  I  can  see,  sir,"  says  mine 
host,  handing  back  our  glass,  "seeing  as  this  here  is 
the  Blawing  Stwun  his  self,"  putting  his  hand  on  a 
square  lump  of  stone  some  three  feet  and  a  half  high, 
perforated  with  two  or  three  queer  holes,  like  petrified 
antediluvian  rat-holes,  which  lies  there  close  under 
the  oak,  under  our  very  nose.  We  are  more  than  ever 
puzzled,  and  drink  our  second  glass  of  ale  wondering 
what  will  come  next.  "Like  to  hear  un,  sir?"  says 
mine  host,  setting  down  Toby  Philpot  on  the  tray,  and 
resting  both  hands  on  the  "  Stwun."  We  are  ready 
for  anything ;  and  he,  without  waiting  for  a  reply, 
applies  his  mouth  to  one  of  the  rat-holes.  Something 
must  come  of  it,  if  he  doesn't  burst.  Good  heavens  ! 
I  hope  he  has  no  apoplectic  tendencies.  Yes,  here  it 


38  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

comes,  sure  enough,  a  grewsome  sound  between  a  moan 
and  a  roar,  and  spreads  itself  away  over  the  valley, 
and  up  the  hillside,  and  into  the  woods  at  the  back  of 
the  house — a  ghost-like,  awful  voice.  "  Um  do  say, 
sir,"  says  mine  host,  rising  purple-faced,  while  the 
moan  is  still  coining  out  of  the  "  Stwun,"  "as  they 
used  in  old  times  to  warn  the  country-side,  by  blawing 
the  stwun  when  the  enemy  was  acomin' — and  as  how 
folks  could  make  un  heered  them  for  seven  miles 
round;  leastways,  so  I've  heered  Lawyer  Smith  say, 
and  he  knows  a  smart  sight  about  them  old  times." 
We  can  hardly  swallow  Lawyer  Smith's  seven  miles ; 
but  could  the  blowing  of  the  stone  have  been  a  sum- 
mons, a  sort  of  sending  the  fiery  cross  round  the 
neighborhood  in  the  old  times  ?  What  old  times  ? 
Who  knows  ?  We  pay  for  our  beer,  and  are  thankful. 

"And  what's  the  name  of  the  village  just  below, 
landlord?" 

"  Kingstone  Lisle,  sir." 

"Fine  plantations  you've  got  here?" 

"Yes,  sir,  the  Squire's  'mazin'  fond  of  trees  and 
such  like." 

"  No  wonder.  He's  got  some  real  beauties  to  be 
fond  of.  Good  day,  landlord." 

"  Good  day,  sir,  and  a  pleasant  ride  to  'e." 

And  now,  my  boys,  you  whom  I  want  to  get  for 
readers,  have  you  had  enough  ?  Will  you  give  in  at 
once,  and  say  you're  convinced,  and  let  me  begin  my 
story,  or  will  you  have  more  of  it?  Remember,  I've 


THE  BLOWING  STONE,  UFFINCTON 


THE  BROWN  FAMILY.  39 

only  been  over  a  little  bit  of  the  hillside  yet — what 
you  could  ride  round  easily  on  your  ponies  in  an  hour. 
I'm  only  just  come  down  into  the  vale,  by  Blowing 
Stone  Hill,  and  if  I  once  begin  about  the  vale,  what's 
to  stop  me  ?  You'll  have  to  hear  all  about  Wantage, 
the  birthplace  of  Alfred,  and  Farringdon,  which  held 
out  so  long  for  Charles  the  First  (the  vale  was  near 
Oxford,  and  dreadfully  malignant ;  full  of  Throgmor- 
tons,  Puseys,  and  Pyes,  and  such  like,  and  their 
brawny  retainers).  Did  you  ever  read  Thomas  In- 
goldsby's  "  Legend  of  Hamilton  Tighe  "  ?  If  you 
haven't  you  ought  to  have.  Well,  Farringdon  is 
where  he  lived  before  he  went  to  sea  ;  his  real  name 
was  Hampden  Pye,  and  the  Pyes  were  the  great  folk 
at  Farringdon.  Then  there's  Pusey,  you've  heard  of 
the  Pusey  horn,  which  King  Canute  gave  to  the  Pu- 
seys of  that  day,  and  which  the  gallant  old  squire, 
lately  gone  to  his  rest  (whom  Berkshire  freeholders 
turned  out  of  last  Parliament,  to  their  eternal  disgrace, 
for  voting  according  to  his  conscience),  used  to  bring 
out  on  high  days,  holidays,  and  bonfire  nights.  And 
the  splendid  old  cross  church  at  Uffington,  the  Uf- 
fingas  town ; — the  whole  country-side  teems  witli 
Saxon  names  and  memories !  And  the  old  moated 
grange  at  Compton,  nestled  close  under  the  hillside, 
where  twenty  Marianas  may  have  lived,  with  its  bright 
water-lilies  in  the  moat,  and  its  yew  walk,  "  the  clois- 
ter walk,"  and  its  peerless  terraced  gardens.  There 
they  all  are,  and  twenty  things  besides ;  for  those  who 


40  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

care  about  them,  and  have  eyes.  And  these  are  the 
sort  of  things  you  may  find,  I  believe,  every  one  of 
you,  in  any  common  English  country  neighborhood. 
Will  you  look  for  them  under  your  own  noses,  or 
will  you  not?  Well,  well;  I've  done  what  I  can  to 
make  you,  and  if  you  Avill  go  gadding  over  half  Eu- 
rope now  every  holidays,  I  can't  help  it.  I  was  born 
and  bred  a  west-countryman,  thank  God  !  a  Wessex 
man,  a  citizen  of  the  noblest  Saxon  kingdom  of  Wes- 
sex, a  regular  "  Angular  Saxon,"  the  very  soul  of  me 
"  adscriptus  glebe."  There's  nothing  like  the  old 
country-side  for  me,  and  no  music  like  the  twang  of 
the  real  old  Saxon  tongue,  as  one  gets  it  fresh  from 
the  veritable  chaw  in  the  White  Horse  Vale :  and  I 
say  with  "  Gaarge  Ridler,"  the  old  west-country 
yeoman, 

"Throo  aall  the  owkl  Gaarge  would  bwoast, 
Commend  me  to  merry  owlcl  England  mwoast : 
While  vools  gwoes  prating  vur  and  nigh, 
We  stwops  at  whum,  my  dog  and  I." 

Here  at  any  rate  lived  and  stopped  at  home,  Squire 
Brown,  J.P.  for  the  county  of  Berks,  in  a  village  near 
the  foot  of  the  White  Horse  range.  And  here  he 
dealt  out  justice  and  mercy  in  a  rough  way,  and  begat 
sons  and  daughters,  and  hunted  the  fox,  and  grumbled 
at  the  badness  of  the  roads  and  the  times.  And  his 
wife  dealt  out  stockings,  and  calico  shirts,  and  smock 
frocks.,  and  comforting  drinks  to  the  old  folks  with  the 


THE  BROWN  FAMILY.  41 

"  rheum atiz,"  and  good  counsel  to  all ;  and  kept  the 
coal  and  clothes  clubs  going,  for  yule  tide,  when  the 
bands  of  mummers  came  round,  dressed  out  in  ribbons 
and  colored  paper  caps,  and  stamped  round  the 
Squire's  kitchen,  repeating  in  true  sing-song  vernac- 
ular the  legend  of  St.  George  and  his  fight,  and  the 
ten-pound  Doctor,  who  plays  his  part  at  healing  the 
Saint — a  relic,  I  believe,  of  the  old  middle-age  mys- 
teries. It  was  the  first  dramatic  representation  which 
greeted  the  eyes  of  little  Tom,  who  was  brought  down 
into  the  kitchen  by  his  nurse  to  witness  it,  at  the 
mature  age  of  three  years.  Tom  was  the  eldest  child 
of  his  parents,  and  from  his  earliest  babyhood  ex- 
hibited the  family  characteristics  in  great  strength. 
He  was  a  hearty  strong  boy  from  the  first,  given  to 
fighting  Avith  and  escaping  from  his  nurse,  and  frater- 
nizing with  all  the  village  boys,  with  whom  he  made 
expeditions  all  round  the  neighborhood.  And  here 
in  the  quiet  old-fashioned  country  village,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  everlasting  hills,  Tom  Brown  was 
reared,  and  never  left  it  till  he  went  first  to  school 
when  nearly  eight  years  of  age, — for  in  those  days 
,  change  of  air  twice  a  year  was  not  thought  absolutely 
necessary  for  the  health  of  all  Her  Majesty's  lieges. 

I  have  been  credibly  informed,  and  am  inclined  to 
believe,  that  the  various  Boards  of  Directors  of  Rail- 
way Companies,  those  gigantic  jobbers  and  bribers, 
while  quarrelling  about  everything  else,  agreed  to- 
gether some  ten  years  back  to  buy  up  the  learned  pro- 


42  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

fession  of  Medicine,  body  and  soul.  To  this  end  they 
set  apart  several  millions  of  money,  which  they  con- 
tinually distribute  judiciously  amongst  the  Doctors, 
stipulating  only  this  one  thing,  that  they  shall  pre- 
scribe change  of  air  to  every  patient  who  can  pay,  or 
borrow  money  to  pay,  a  railway  fare,  and  see  their  pre- 
scription carried  out.  If  it  be  not  for  this,  why  is  it 
that  none  of  us  can  be  well  at  home  for  a  year  to- 
gether ?  It  wasn't  so  twenty  years  ago, — not  a  bit  of 
it.  The  Browns  didn't  go  out  of  the  county  once  in 
five  years.  A  visit  to  Reading  or  Abingdon  twice 
a-year,  at  Assizes  or  Quarter  Sessions,  Avhich  the 
Squire  made  on  his  horse  with  a  pair  of  saddle-bags 
containing  his  wardrobe — a  stay  of  a  day  or  two  at 
some  country  neighbor's — or  an  expedition  to  a 
county  ball,  or  the  yeomanry  review — made  up  the 
sum  of  the  Brown  locomotion  in  most  years.  A  stray 
Brown  from  some  distant  county  dropped  in  every  now 
and  then ;  or  from  Oxford,  on  grave  nag,  an  old  don, 
contemporary  of  the  Squire  ;  and  were  looked  upon 
by  the  Brown  household  and  the  villagers  with  the 
same  sort  of  feeling  with  which  we  now  regard  a  man 
who  has  crossed  the  Rocky  Mountains,  or  launched  a 
boat  on  the  Great  Lake  in  Central  Africa.  The 
White  Horse  Vale,  remember,  was  traversed  by  no 
great  road ;  nothing  but  country  parish  roads,  and 
these  very  bad.  Only  one  coach  ran  there,  and  this 
one  only  from  Wantage  to  London,  so  that  the  western 
part  of  the  Vale  was  without  regular  means  of  moving 


THE  CANAL,  UFFINCTON 


THE  BROWN  FAMILY.  43 

on,  and  certainly  didn't  seem  to  want  them.  There 
was  the  canal,  by  the  way,  which  supplied  the  country 
side  with  coal,  and  up  and  down  which  continually 
went  the  long  barges,  with  the  big  black  men  lounging 
by  the  side  of  the  horses  along  the  towing  path,  and 
the  women  in  bright  colored  handkerchiefs  standing  in 
the  sterns  steering.  Standing  I  say,  but  you  could 
never  see  whether  they  were  standing  or  sitting,  all 
but  their  heads  and  shoulders  being  out  of  sight  in 
the  cozy  little  cabins  which  occupied  some  eight  feet 
of  the  stern,  and  which  Tom  Brown  pictured  to  him- 
self as  the  most  desirable  of  residences.  His  nurs» 
told  him  that  those  good-natured-looking  women  were 
in  the  constant  habit  of  enticing  children  into  the 
barges  and  taking  them  up  to  London  and  selling 
them,  which  Tom  wouldn't  believe,  and  which  made 
him  resolve  as  soon  as  possible  to  accept  the  oft-prof- 
fered invitation  of  these  sirens  to  "young  Master  "  to 
come  in  and  have  a  ride.  But  as  yet  the  nurse  was 
too  much  for  Tom. 

Yet  why  should  I  after  all  abuse  the  gadabout  pro- 
pensities of  my  countrymen  ?  We  are  a  vagabond 
nation  now.  that's  certain,  for  better  for  worse.  I  am 
a  vagabond  ;  I  have  been  away  from  home  no  less  than 
five  distinct  times  in  the  last  year.  The  Queen  sets  us 
the  example — we  are  moving  on  from  top  to  bottom. 
Little  dirty  Jack,  who  abides  in  Clement's  Inn  gate- 
way, and  blacks  my  boots  for  a  penny,  takes  his 
month's  hop-picking  every  year  as  a  matter  of  course. 


44  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Why  shouldn't  he  ?  I'm  delighted  at  it.  I  love  vag- 
abonds, only  I  prefer  poor  to  rich  ones ; — couriers  and 
ladies'  maids,  imperials  and  travelling  carriages,  are 
an  abomination  unto  me — I  cannot  away  with  them. 
But  for  dirty  Jack,  and  every  good  fellow  who,  in  the 
words  of  the  capital  French  song,  moves  about, 

"  Comme  le  limafon, 
Portant  tout  son  bagage, 
Ses  meubles,  sa  maison," 

on  his  own  back,  why,  gook  luck  to  them,  and  many 
a  merry  road-side  adventure,  and  steaming  supper  in 
the  chimney  corners  of  road-side  inns,  Swiss  chalets, 
Hottentot  kraals,  or  wherever  else  they  like  to  go.  So, 
having  succeeded  in  contradicting  myself  in  my  first 
chapter,  (which  gives  me  great  hopes  that  you  will  all 
go  on,  and  think  me  a  good  fellow  notwithstanding  my 
crotchet,)  I  shall  here  shut  up  for  the  present,  and 
consider  my  ways;  having  resolved  to  "  sar'  it  out," 
as  we  say  in  the  Vale,  a  holus-bolus  "  just  as  it  comes, 
and  then  you'll  probably  get  the  truth  out  of  me. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  VEAST. 

"  And  the  King  conirnandeth  and  forbiddeth,  that  from  hence- 
forth neither  fairs  nor  markets  be  kept  in  Church-yards,  for  the 
honour  of  the  Church." — STATUTES:  13  Edw.  I.  Stat.  n.  cap.  vr. 

As  that  venerable  and  learned  poet  (whose  volumi- 
nous works  we  all  think  it  the  correct  thing  to  admire 
and  talk  about,  but  don't  read  often)  most  truly  says, 
"  the  child  is  father  to  the  man  ;"  a  fortiori,  therefore, 
he  must  be  father  to  the  boy.  So,  as  we  are  going  at 
any  rate  to  see  Tom  Brown  through  his  boyhood,  sup- 
posing we  never  get  any  further,  (which,  if  you  show 
a  proper  sense  of  the  value  of  this  history,  there  is  no 
knowing  but  what  we  may,)  let  us  have  a  look  at  the 
life  and  environments  of  the  child,  in  the  quiet  country 
village  to  which  Ave  were  introduced  in  the  last 
chapter. 

Tom,  as  has  been  already  said,  was  a  robust  and 
combative  urchin,  and  at  the  age  of  four  began  to 
struggle  against  the  yoke  and  authority  of  his  nurse. 
That  functionary  was  a  good-hearted,  tearful,  scatter- 
brained girl,  lately  taken  by  Tom's  mother,  Madam 
Brown,  as  she  was  called,  from  the  village  school  to 
be  trained  as  nurserymaid.  Madam  Brown  was  a  rare 

45 


46  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

trainer  of  servants,  and  spent  herself  freely  in  the  pro- 
fession ;  for  profession  it  was,  and  gave  her  more 
trouble  by  half  than  many  people  take  to  earn  a  good 
income.  Her  servants  were  known  and  sought  after 
for  miles  round.  Almost  all  the  girls  who  attained  a 
certain  place  in  the  village  school  were  taken  by  her, 
one  or  two  at  a  time,  as  housemaids,  laundrymaids, 
nurserymaids,  or  kitchenmaids,  and  after  a  year  or 
two's  drilling,  were  started  in  life  amongst  the  neigh- 
boring families,  with  good  principles  arid  wardrobes. 
One  of  the  results  of  this  system  was  the  perpetual 
despair  of  Mrs.  Brown's  cook  and  own  maid,  who  no 
sooner  had  a  notable  girl  made  to  their  hands,  than 
Missus  was  sure  to  find  a  good  place  for  her  and  send 
her  off,  taking  in  fresh  importations  from  the  school. 
Another  was,  that  the  house  was  always  full  of  young 
girls,  with  clean  shining  faces ;  who  broke  plates  and 
scorched  linen,  but  made  an  atmosphere  of  cheerful 
homely  life  about  the  place,  good  for  every  one  who 
came  within  its  influence.  Mrs.  Brown  loved  young 
people,  and  in  fact  human  creatures  in  general,  above 
plates  and  linen.  They  were  more  like  a  lot  of  elder 
children  than  servants,  and  felt  to  her  more  as  a 
mother  or  aunt  than  as  a  mistress. 

Tom's  nurse  was  one  who  took  in  her  instruction 
very  slowly, — she  seemed  to  have  two  left  hands  and 
no  head ;  and  so  Mrs.  Brown  kept  her  on  longer  than 
usual,  that  she  might  expend  her  awkwardness  and 


STREET  IN  UFFIN.CTON 


THE  YEAST.  47 

forgetfulness   upon   those  who  would  not  judge   and 
punish  her  too  strictly  for  them. 

Charity  Lamb  was  her  name.  It  had  been  the  im- 
memorial habit  of  the  village,  to  christen  children 
either  by  Bible  names,  or  by  those  of  the  cardinal  and 
other  virtues ;  so  that  one  was  for  ever  hearing  in  the 
village  street,  or  on  the  green,  shrill  sounds  of,  "  Pru- 
dence! Prudence!  thee  cum'  out  o'  the  gutter;"  or, 
"  Mercy  !  d'rat  the  girl,  what  bist  thee  a  doin'  wi' 
little  Faith?"  and  there  were  Ruths,  Rachels,  Keziahs, 
in  every  corner.  The  same  with  the  boys ;  they  were 
Benjamins,  Jacobs,  Noahs,  Enochs.  I  suppose  the 
custom  has  come  down  from  Puritan  times — there  it  is 
at  any  rate,  very  strong  still  in  the  Yale. 

Well,  from  early  morn  till  dewy  eve,  when  she  had 
it  out  of  him  in  the  cold  tub  before  putting  him  to 
bed,  Charity  and  Tom  were  pitted  against  one  an- 
other. Physical  power  was  as  yet  on  the  side  of  Char- 
ity, but  she  hadn't  a  chance  with  him  wherever  head- 
work  was  wanted.  This  war  of  independence  began 
every  morning  before  breakfast,  when  Charity  escorted 
her  charge  to  a  neighboring  farm-house  which  supplied 
the  Browns,  and  where,  by  his  mother's  wish.  Master' 
Tom  went  to  drink  whey,  before  breakfast.  Tom  had 
no  sort  of  objection  to  whey,  but  he  had  a  decided 
liking  for  curds,  which  were  forbidden  as  unwholesome, 
and  there  was  seldom  a  morning  that  he  did  not  man- 
age to  secure  a  handful  of  hard  curds,  in  defiance  of 
Charity  and  of  the  farmer's  wife.  The  latter  good 


48  TOM   BROWX'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

soul  was  a  gaunt  angular  woman,  who,  with  an  old 
black  bonnet  on  the  top  of  her  head,  the  strings  dang- 
ling about  her  shoulders,  and  her  gown  tucked  through 
her  pocket-holes,  went  clattering  about  the  dairy, 
cheese-room,  and  yard,  in  high  pattens.  Charity  was 
some  sort  of  niece  of  the  old  lady's,  and  was  conse- 
quently free  of  the  farm-house  and  garden,  into  which 
she  could  not  resist  going  for  the  purposes  of  gossip  and 
flirtation  with  the  heir-apparent,  who  was  a  dawdling 
fellow,  never  out  at  work  as  he  ought  to  have  been. 
The  moment  Charity  had  found  her  cousin,  or  any 
other  occupation,  Torn  would  slip  away  ;  and  in  a  min- 
ute shrill  cries  would  be  heard  from  the  dairy,  "  Char- 
ity, Charity,  thee  lazy  huzzy,  where  bist  ?"  and  Tom 
would  break  cover,  hands  and  mouth  full  of  curds,  and 
take  refuge  on  the  shaky  surface  of  the  great  inuck 
reservoir  in  the  middle  of  the  yard,  disturbing  the 
repose  of  the  great  pigs.  Here  he  was  in  safety,  as  no 
grown  person  could  follow  without  getting  over  their 
knees ;  and  the  luckless  Charity,  while  her  aunt 
scolded  her  from  the  dairy-door,  for  being  "  allus 
hankering  about  arter  our  Willum,  instead  of  minding 
Master  Tom,"  would  descend  from  threats  to  coaxing, 
to  lure  Tom  out  of  the  muck,  which  was  rising  over 
his  shoes  and  would  soon  tell  a  tale  on  his  stockings, 
for  which  she  would  be  sure  to  catch  it  from  missus's 
maid. 

Tom  had  two  abettors  in  the  shape  of  a  couple  of  old 
boys,  Noah  and  Benjamin  by  name,  who  defended  him 


THE   VEAST.  49 

from  Charity,  and  expended  much  time  upon  his  edu- 
cation. They  were  both  of  them  retired  servants  of 
former  generations  of  the  Browns.  Noah  Crooke  was 
a  keen  dry  old  man  of  almost  ninety,  but  still  able  to 
totter  about.  He  talked  to  Tom  quite  as  if  he  were 
one  of  his  own  family,  and  indeed  had  long  completely 
identified  the  Browns  with  himself.  In  some  remote 
age  he  had  been  the  attendant  of  a  Miss  Brown,  and 
had  conveyed  her  about* the  country  on  a  pillion.  He 
had  a  little  round  picture  of  the  identical  gray  horse, 
caparisoned  with  the  identical  pillion,  before  which  he 
used  to  do  a  sort  of  fetish  worship,  and  abuse  turnpike- 
roads  and  carriages.  He  wore  an  old  full-bottomed 
wig,  the  gift  of  some  dandy  old  Brown  whom  he  had 
valeted  in  the  middle  of  last  century,  which  habil- 
iment Master  Tom  looked  upon  with  considerable 
respect,  not  to  say  fear  ;  and  indeed  his  whole  feeling 
towards  Noah  was  strongly  tainted  with  awe;  and 
when  the  old  gentleman  was  gathered  to  his  fathers, 
Tom's  lamentation  ower  him  was  not  unaccompanied 
by  a  certain  joy  at  having  seen  the  last  of  the  Avig : 
"Poor  old  Noah,  dead  and  gone,"  said  he,  "Tom 
Brown  so  sorry  !  Put  him  in  the  coffin,  wig  and  all." 
But  old  Benjy  was  young  Master's  real  delight  and 
refuge.  He  Avas  a  youth  by  the  side  of  Noah,  scarce 
seventy  years  old.  A  cheery,  humorous,  kind-hearted 
old  man,  full  of  sixty  years  of  Vale  gossip,  and  of  all 
sorts  of  helpful  ways  for  young  and  old,  but  above  all 
for  children.  It  was  he  who  bent  the  first  pin,  with 

4 


50  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

which  Tom  extracted  his  first  stickleback  out  of 
"Pebbly  Brook,"  the  little  stream  which  ran  through 
the  village.  The  first  stickleback  was  a  splendid  fel- 
low, with  fabulous  red  and  blue  gills.  Tom  kept  him 
in  a  small  basin  till  the  day  of  his  death,  and  became 
a  fisherman  from  that  day.  Within  a  month  from  the 
taking  of  the  first  stickleback,  Benjy  had  carried  off 
our  hero  to  the  canal,  in  defiance  of  Charity,  and 
between  them,  after  a  whole  afternoon's  popjoying, 
they  had  caught  three  or  four  small  coarse  fish  and  a 
perch,  averaging  perhaps  two  and  a  half  ounces  each, 
which  Tom  bore  home  in  rapture  to  his  mother  as  a 
precious  gift,  and  she  received  like  a  true  mother  with 
equal  rapture,  instructing  the  cook  nevertheless,  in  a 
private  intervieAV,  not  to  prepare  the  same  for  the 
Squire's  dinner.  Charity  had  appealed  against  old 
Benjy  in  the  meantime,  representing  the  dangers  of 
the  canal  banks ;  but  Mrs.  Brown,  seeing  the  boy's 
inaptitude  for  female  guidance,  had  decided  in  Benjy's 
favor,  and  from  thenceforth  the  old  man  was  Tom's 
dry  nurse.  And  as  they  sat  by  the  canal  watching 
their  little  green  and  white  float,  Benjy  would  instruct 
him  in  the  doings  of  deceased  Browns.  How  his 
grandfather,  in  the  early  days  of  the  great  war,  when 
there  was  much  distress  and  crime  in  the  Vale,  and  the 
magistrates  had  been  threatened  by  the  mob,  had  rid- 
den in  with  a  big  stick  in  his  hand,  and  held  the  Petty 
Sessions  by  himself.  How  his  great  uncle,  the  Rector, 
had  encountered  and  laid  the  last  ghost,  who  had 


THE  YEAST.  51 

frightened  the  old  women,  male  and  female,  of  the 
parish  out  of  their  senses,  and  who  turned  out  to  be 
the  blacksmith's  apprentice,  disguised  in  drink  and 
a  -white  sheet.  It  was  Benjy  too  who  saddled  Tom's 
first  pony,  and  instructed  him  in  the  mysteries  of 
horsemanship,  teaching  him  to  throw  his  weight  back 
and  keep  his  hand  low ;  and  who  stood  chuckling  out- 
side, the  door  of  the  girls'  school,  when  Tom  rode  his 
little  Shetland  into  the  cottage  and  round  the  table, 
where  the  old  dame  and  her  pupils  were  seated  at  their 
work. 

Benjy  himself  was  come  of  a  family  distinguished 
in  the  Yale  for  their  prowess  in  all  athletic  games. 
Some  half-dozen  of  his  brothers  and  kinsmen  had  gone 
to  the  wars,  of  whom  only  one  had  survived  to  come 
home,  with  a  small  pension,  and  three  bullets  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  his  body  ;  he  had  shared  Benjy's  cot- 
tage till  his  death,  and  had  left  him  his  old  dragoon's 
sword  and  pistol,  which  hung  over  the  mantel-piece, 
flanked  by  a  pair  of  heavy  single-sticks  with  which 
Benjy  himself  had  won  renown  long  ago  as  an  old 
gamester,  against  the  picked  men  of  Wiltshire  and 
Somersetshire,  in  many  a  good  bout  at  the  revels  and 
pastime  of  the  country-side.  For  he  had  been  a 
famous  back-sword  man  in  his  young  days,  and  a  good 
wrestler  at  elbow  and  collar. 

Back-swording  and  wrestling  were  the  most  serious 
holiday  pursuits  of  the  Yale — those  by  which  men  at- 
tained fame — and  each  village  had  its  champion.  I 


52  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

suppose  that  on  the  whole,  people  were  less  worked 
then  than  they  are  now ;  at  any  rate,  they  seemed  to 
have  more  time  and  energy  for  the  old  pastimes.  The 
great  times  for  back-swording  came  round  once  a-year 
in  each  village,  at  the  feast.  The  Vale  u  veasts  "  were 
not  the  common  statute  feasts,  hut  much  more  ancient 
business.  They  are  literally,  so  far  as  one  can  ascer- 
tain, feasts  of  the  dedication,  i.  e.  they  were  first  es- 
tablished in  the  churchyard  on  the  day  on  which  the 
village  church  Avas  opened  for  public  worship,  which 
was  on  the  wake  or  festival- of  the  patron  Saint,  and 
have  been  held  on  the  same  day  in  every  year  since 
that  time. 

There  was  no  longer  any  remembrance  of  why  the 
"  veast"  had  been  instituted,  but  nevertheless  it  had  a 
pleasant  and  almost  sacred  character  of  its  own.  For 
it  was  then  that  all  the  children  of  the  village, 
wherever  they  were  scattered,  tried  to  get  home  for  a 
holiday  to  visit  their  fathers  and  mothers  and  friends, 
bringing  with  them  their  wages  or  some  little  gift  from 
up  the  country  for  the  old  folk.  Perhaps  for  a  day  or 
two  before,  but  at  any  rate  on  "  veast  day  "  and  the 
day  after,  in  our  village,  you  might  see  strapping 
healthy  young  men  and  women  from  all  parts  of  the 
country  going  round  from  house  to  house  in  their  best 
clothes,  and  finishing  up  with  a  call  on  Madam  Brown, 
whom  they  Avould  consult  as  to  putting  out  their  earn- 
ings to  the  best  advantage,  or  how  to  expend  the  same 
best  for  the  benefit  of  the  old  folk.  Every  household, 


H  CHURCH,  UFFINGTON 


THE  YEAST.  53 

however  poor,  managed  to  raise  a  "feast-cake"  and 
bottle  of  ginger  or  raisin  wine,  which  stood  on  the  cot- 
tage table  ready  for  all  comers,  and  not  unlikely  to 

^  * 

make  them  remember  feast  time — for  feast-cake  is  very 
solid,  and  full  of  huge  raisins.  Moreover,  feast-time 
was  the  day  of  reconciliation  for  the  parish.  If  Job 
Higgins  and  Xoah  Freeman  hadn't  spoken  for  the 
last  six  months,  their  ''old  women"  would  be  sure  to 
get  it  patched  up  by  that  day.  And  though  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  drinking  and  low  vice  in  the  booths  of 
an  evening,  it  was  pretty  well  confined  to  those  who 
would  have  been  doing  the  like,  "  veast  or  no  veast," 
and,  on  the  whole,  the  effect  was  humanizing  and 
Christian.  In  fact,  the  only  reason  why  this  is  not 

•/  */ 

the  case  still,  is  that  gentlefolk  and  farmers  have 
taken  to  other  amusements,  and  have,  as  usual,  forgot- 
ten the  poor.  They  don't  attend  the  feasts  themselves, 
and  call  them  disreputable,  whereupon  the  steadiest  of 
the  poor  leave  them  also,  and  they  become  what  they 
are  called.  Class  amusements,  be  they  for  dukes  or 
plough-boy.=.  always  become  nuisances  and  curses  to  a 
country.  The  true  charm  of  cricket  and  hunting  is, 
that  they  are  still  more  or  less  sociable  and  universal ; 
there's  a  place  for  every  man  who  will  come  and  take 
his  part. 

No  one  in  the  village  enjoyed  the  approach  of 
"  veast  day  "  more  than  Tom,  in  the  year  in  which  he 
was  taken  under  old  Benjy's  tutelage.  The  feast  was 
held  in  a  large  green  field  at  the  lower  end  of  the  vil- 


54  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

lage.  The  road  to  Farringdon  ran  along  one  side  of 
it,  and  the  brook  by  the  side  of  the  road ;  and  above 
the  brook  was  another  large  gentle  sloping  pasture- 
land,  with  a  foot-path  running  down  it  from  the 
churchyard  ;  and  the  old  church,  the  originator  of  all 
the  mirth,  towered  up  with  its  gray  walls  and  lancet 
windows,  overlooking  and  sanctioning  the  whole, 
though  its  own  share  therein  had  been  forgotten.  At 
the  point  where  the  footpath  crossed  the  brook  and 
road,  and  entered  on  the  field  where  the  feast  was  held, 
was  a  long  low  roadside  inn,  and  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  field  was  a  large  white  thatched  farm-house, 
where  dwelt  an  old  sporting  farmer,  a  great  promoter 
of  the  revels, 

Past  the  old  church,  and  down  the  footpath,  pottered 
the  old  man  and  the  child  hand  in  hand  early  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  day  before  the  feast,  and  wandered 
all  round  the  ground,  which  was  already  being  occu- 
pied by  the  "cheap  Jacks,"  with  their  green  covered 
carts  and  marvellous  assortment  of  wares,  and  the 
booths  of  more  legitimate  small  traders  with  their 
tempting  arrays  of  fairings  and  eatables  !  and  penny 
peep-shows  and  other  shows,  containing  pink-eyed 
ladies,  and  dwarfs,  and  boa-constrictors,  and  wild 
Indians.  But  the  object  of  most  interest  to  Benjy, 
and  of  course  to  his  pupil  also,  was  the  stage  of 
rough  planks  some  four  feet  high,  which  was  being  put 
up  by  the  village  carpenter  for  the  back-swording  and 
wrestling ;  and  after  surveying  the  whole  tenderly,  old 


THE  VEAST.  55 

Benjy  led  his  charge  away  to  the  road-side  inn,  where 
he  ordered  a  glass  of  ale  and  a  long  pipe  for  himself, 
and  discussed  these  unwonted  luxuries  on  the  bench 
outside  in  the  soft  autumn  evening  with  mine  host, 
another  old  servant  of  the  Browns,  and  speculated  witji 
him  on  the  likelihood  of  a  good  show  of  old  gamesters 
to  contend  for  the  morrow's  prizes,  and  told  tales  of  the 
gallant  bouts  of  forty  years  back,  to  which  Tom  lis- 
tened with  all  his  ears  and  eyes. 

But  who  shall  tell  the  joy  of  the  next  morning, 
when  the  church-bells  were  ringing  a  merry  peal,  and 
old  Benjy  appeared  in  the  servants'  hall,  resplendent 
in  a  long  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons,  and  a  pair  of 
old  yelloAv  buckskins  and  top-boots,  which  he  had 
cleaned  for  and  inherited  from  Tom's  grandfather ;  a 
stout  thorn-stick  in  his  hand,  and  a  nosegay  of  pinks 
and  lavender  in  his  button-hole,  and  led  away  Tom  in 
his  best  clothes,  and  two  new  shillings  in  his  breeches- 
pockets?  Those  two,  at  any  rate,  look  like  enjoying 
the  day's  revel. 

They  quicken  their  pace  when  they  get  into  the 
churchyard,  for  already  they  see  the  field  thronged 
with  country  folk,  the  men  in  clean  white  smocks  or 
velveteen  or  fustian  coats,  with  rough  plush  waistcoats 
of  many  colors,  and  the  women  in  the  beautiful  long 
scarlet  cloak,  the  usual  out-door  dress  of  west-country 
women  in  those  days,  and  which  often  descended  in 
families  from  mother  to  daughter,  or  in  new-fashioned 
stuff  shawls,  which,  if  they  would  but  believe  it,  don't 


56  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

become  them  half  so  well.  The  air  resounds  with  the 
pipe  and  tabor,  and  the  drums  and  trumpets  of  the 
showmen  shouting  at  the  doors  of  their  caravans,  over 
which  tremendous  pictures  of  the  wonders  to  be  seen 
within  hang  temptingly ;  while  through  all  rises  the 
shrill  "  root-too-too-too  "  of  Mr.  Punch,  and  the  un- 
ceasing pan-pipe  of  his  satellite. 

"Lawk  a'  massey,  Mr.  Benjamin,"  cries  a  stout 
motherly  woman  in  a  red  cloak,  as  they  enter  the  field, 
"  be  that  you  ?  Well  I  never !  you  do  look  purely. 
And  how's  the  Squire,  and  Madam,  and  the  family  ?" 

Benjy  graciously  shakes  hands  with  the  speaker, 
who  has  left  our  village  for  some  years,  but  has  come 
over  for  Veast-day  on  a  visit  to  an  old  gossip — and 
gently  indicates  the  heir  apparent  of  the  Browns. 

"  Bless  his  little  heart !  I  must  gi'  un  a  kiss.  Here 
Susannah,  Susannah  !"  cries  she,  raising  herself  from 
the  embrace,  "come  and  see  Mr.  Benjamin  and  young 
Master  Tom.  You  minds  our  Sukey,  Mr.  Benjamin, 
she  be  growed  a  rare  slip  of  a  wench  since  you  seen 
her,  tho'  her'll  be  sixteen  come  Martinmas.  I  do  aim 
to  take  her  to  see  Madam  to  get  her  a  place." 

And  Sukey  comes  bouncing  away  from  a  knot  of  old 
school-fellows,  and  drops  a  courtesy  to  Mr.  Benjamin. 
And  elders  come  up  from  all  parts  to  salute  Benjy,  and 
girls  who  have  been  Madam's  pupils  to  kiss  Master 
Tom.  And  they  carry  him  off  to  load  him  with  fair- 
ings; and  he  returns  to  Benjy,  his  hat  and  coat 
covered  with  ribbons,  and  his  pockets  crammed  with 


THE  VEAST.  57 

wonderful  boxes  which  open  upon  ever  new  boxes  and 
boxes,  and  popguns  and  trumpets,  and  apples,  and  gilt 
gingerbread  from  the  stall  of  Angel  Heavens,  sole  ven- 
dor thereof,  whose  booth  groans  with  kings  and  queens, 
and  elephants,  and  prancing  steeds,  all  gleaming  with 
gold.  There  was  more  gold  on  Angel's  cakes  than 
there  is  ginger  in  those  of  this  degenerate  age. 
Skilled  diggers  might  yet  make  a  fortune  in  the 
churchyards  of  the  Vale,  by  carefully  washing  the  dust 
of  the  consumers  of  Angel's  gingerbread.  Alas  !  he 
is  with  his  namesakes,  and  his  receipts  have,  I  fear, 
died  with  him. 

And  then  they  inspect  the  penny  peep-show,  at  least 
Tom  does,  while  old  Benjy  stands  outside  and  gossips. 
and  walks  up  the  steps,  and  enters  the  mysterious  doors 
of  the  pink-eyed  lady,  and  the  Irish  Giant,  who  do  not 
by  any  means  come  up  to  their  pictures ;  and  the  boa 
will  not  swallow  his  rabbit,  but  there  the  rabbit  is 
waiting  to  be  swallowed — and  what  can  you  expect  for 
tuppence  ?  We  are  easily  pleased  in  the  Vale.  Now 
there  is  a  rush  of  the  crowd,  and  a  tinkling  bell  is 
heard,  and  shouts  of  laughter ;  and  Master  Tom 
mounts  on  Benjy's  shoulders  and  beholds  a  jingling 
match  in  all  its  glory.  The  games  are  begun,  and  this 
is  the  opening  of  them.  It  is  a  quaint  game,  im- 
mensely amusing  to  look  at,  and  as  I  don't  know 
whether  it  is  used  in  your  counties,  I  had  better  de- 
scribe it.  A  large  roped  ring  is  made,  into  which  are 
introduced  a  dozen  or  so  of  big  boys  and  young  men 


58  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

who  mean  to  play ;  these  are  carefully  blinded  and 
turned  loose  into  the  ring,  and  then  a  man  is  intro- 
duced not  blindfolded,  with  a  bell  hung  round  his 
neck,  and  his  two  hands  tied  behind  him.  Of  course, 
every  time  he  moves  the  bell  must  ring,  as  he  has  no 
hand  to  hold  it,  and  so  the  dozen  blindfolded  men  have 
to  catch  him.  This  they  cannot  always  manage  if  he 
is  a  lively  fellow,  but  half  of  them  always  rush  into 
the  arms  of  the  other  half,  or  drive  their  heads  to- 
gether, or  tumble  over ;  and  then  the  crowd  laughs 
vehemently,  and  invents  nicknames  for  them  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  and  they,  if  they  be  choleric,  tear 
off  the  handkerchiefs  which  blind  them,  and  not  un- 
frequently  pitch  into  one  another,  each  thinking  that 
the  other  must  have  run  against  him  on  purpose.  It 
is  great  fun  to  look  at  a  jingling-match  certainly,  and 
Tom  shouts,  and  jumps  on  old  Benjy's  shoulders  at 
the  sight,  until  the  old  man  feels  weary,  and  shifts  him 
to  the  strong  young  shoulders  of  the  groom,  who  has 
just  got  down  to  the  fun. 

And  now,  while  they  are  climbing  the  pole  in  another 
part  of  the  field,  and  muzzling  in  a  flour-tub  in  another, 
the  old  farmer  whose  house,  as  has  been  said  overlooks 
the  field,  and  who  is  master  of  the  revels,  gets  up  the 
steps  on  to  the  stage,  and  announces  to  all  whom  it  may 
concern  that  a  half-sovereign  in  money  will  be  forth- 
coming for  the  old  gamester  who  breaks  most  heads  ;  to 
which  the  Squire  and  he  have  added  a  new  hat. 

The  amount  of  the  prize  is  sufficient  to  stimulate  the 


THE  YEAST.  59 

men  of  the  immediate  neighborhood,  but  not  enough  to 
brino-  any  very  high  talent  from  a  distance  ;  so  after  a 

O  «/  t/  O 

glance  or  two  round,  a  tall  felloAV,  'who  is  a  down  shep- 
herd, chucks  his  hat  on  to  the  stage  and  climbs  up  the 
steps  looking  rather  sheepish.  The  crowd  of  course 
first  cheer,  and  then  chaff  as  usual,  as  he  picks  up  his 
hat  and  begins  handling  the  sticks  to  see  which  will 
suit  him. 

"  "\Vooy,  AVillum  Smith,  thee  cans't  plaay  wi'  he  arra 
daay,"  says  his  companion  to  the  blacksmith's  appren- 
tice, a  stout  young  fellow  of  nineteen  or  twenty.  ^  il- 
ium's sweetheart  is  in  the  "  veast  "  somewhere,  and  has 
strictly  enjoined  him  not  to  get  his  head  broke  at  back- 
swording,  on  pain  of  her  highest  displeasure  ;  but  as 
she  is  not  to  be  seen,  (the  women  pretend  not  to  like  to 
see  the  back-sword  play,  and  keep  away  from  the 
stage,)  and  as  his  hat  is  decidedly  getting  old,  he 
chucks  it  on  to  the  stage,  and  follows  himself,  hoping 
that  he  will  only  have  to  break  other  people's  heads,  or 
that  after  all  Rachel  won't  really  mind. 

Then  follows  the  greasy  cap  lined  with  fur  of  a  half- 
gypsy,  poaching,  loafing  fellow,  who  travels  the  Vale 
not  for  much  good,  I  fancy  : 

"Full  twenty  times  was  Peter  feared 
For  once  that  Peter  was  respected  " 

in  fact.  And  then  three  or  four  other  hats,  including 
the  glossy  castor  of  Joe  Willis,  the  self-elected  and 
would-be  champion  of  the  neighborhood,  a  well-to-do 


60  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

young  butcher  of  twenty-eighi  or  thereabouts,  and  a 
great  strapping  fellow,  with  his  full  allowance  of  blus- 
ter. This  is  a  capital  show  of  gamesters,  considering 
the  amount  of  the  prize;  so  while  they  are  picking 
their  sticks  and  drawing  their  lots,  I  think  I  must  tell 
you,  as  shortly  as  I  can,  how  the  noble  old  game  of 
back-sword  is  played ;  for  it  is  sadly  gone  out  of  late, 
even  in  the  Vale,  and  maybe  you  have  never  seen  it. 
The  weapon  is  a  good  stout  ash-stick  with  a  large 
basket  handle,  heavier  and  somewhat  shorter  than  a 
common  single-stick.  The  players  are  called  "  old 
gamesters" — why,  I  can't  tell  you, — and  their  object 
is  simply  to  break  one  another's  heads  :  for  the  moment 
that  blood  runs  an  inch  anywhere  above  the  eyebrow 
the  old  gamester  to  whom  it  belongs  is  beaten,  and  has 
to  stop.  A  very  slight  blow  with  the  sticks  will  fetch 
blood,  so  that  it  is  by  no  means  a  punishing  pastime, 
if  the  men  don't  play  on  purpose,  and  savagely,  at  the 
body  and  arms  of  their  adversaries.  The  old  game- 
ster going  into  action  only  takes  off  his  hat  and  coat, 
and  arms  himself  with  a  stick  :  he  then  loops  the 
fingers  of  his  left  hand  in  a  handkerchief  or  strap 
which  he  fastens  round  his  left  leg,  measuring  the 
length,  so  that  when  he  draws  it  tight  with  his  left 
elbow  in  the  air,  that  elbow  shall  just  reach  as  high  as 
his  crown.  Thus  you  see,  so  long  as  he  chooses  to 
keep  his  left  elbow  up,  regardless  of  cuts,  he  has  a  per- 
fect guard  for  the  left  side  of  his  head.  Then  he  ad- 
vances his  right  hand  above  and  in  front  of  his  head, 


THE  YEAST.  61 

holding  his  stick  across  so  that  its  point  projects  an 
inch  or  two  over  his  left  elbow,  and  thus  his  whole  head 
is  completely  guarded,  and  he  faces  his  man  armed  in 
like  manner,  and  they  stand  some  three  feet  apart, 
often  nearer,  and  feint,  and  strike,  and  return  at  one 
another's  heads,  until  one  cries  "  hold,"  or  blood  flows; 
in  the  first  case  they  are  allowed  a  minute's  time,  and 
go  on  again  ;  in  the  latter,  another  pair  of  gamesters 
are  called  on.  If  good  men  are  playing,  the  quickness 
of  the  returns  is  marvellous ;  you  hear  the  rattle  like 
that  a  boy  makes  drawing  his  stick  along  palings,  only 
heavier,  and  the  closeness  of  the  men  in  action  to  one 
another  gives  it  a  strange  interest  and  makes  a  spell 
at  back-swording  a  very  noble  sight. 

They  are  all  suited  now  with  sticks,  and  Joe  Willis 
and  the  gypsy  man  have  drawn  the  first  lot.  So  the 
rest  lean  against  the  rails  of  the  stage,  and  Joe  and  the 
dark  man  meet  in  the  middle,  the  boards  having  been 
strewed  with  sawdust ;  Joe's  white  shirt  and  spotless 
drab  breeches  and  boots  contrasting  with  the  gypsy's 
coarse  blue  shirt  and  dirty  green  velveteen  breeches 
and  leather  gaiters.  Joe  is  evidently  turning  up  his 
nose  at  the  other,  and  half  insulted  at  having  to  break 
his  head. 

The  gypsy  is  a  tough  active  fellow,  but  not  very 
skilful  with  his  weapon,  so  that  Joe's  weight  and 
strength  tell  in  a  minute ;  he  is  too  heavy  metal  for 
him:  whack,  whack,  whack,  come  his  blows,  breaking 
down  the  gypsy's  guard,  and  threatening  to  reach  his 


62  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

head  every  moment.  There  it  is  at  last — "  Blood, 
blood  !"  shout  the  spectators,  as  a  thin  stream  oozes 
out  slowly  from  the  roots  of  his  hair,  and  the  umpire 
calls  to  them  to  stop.  The  gypsy  scowls  at  Joe  under 
his  brows  in  no  pleasant  manner,  while  Master  Joe 
swaggers  about,  and  makes  attitudes,  and  thinks  him- 
self,and  shows  that  he  thinks  himself,  the  greatest  man 
in  the  field. 

Then  follow  several  stout  sets-to  between  the  other 
candidates  for  the  new  hat,  and  at  last  come  the  shep- 
herd and  Willum  Smith.  This  is  the  crack  set-to  of 
the  day.  They  are  both  in  famous  wind,  and  there  is 
no  crying  "hold;"  the  shepherd  is  an  old  hand  and  up 
to  all  the  dodges  ;  he  tries  them  one  after  another,  and 
very  nearly  gets  at  Willum's  head  by  coming  in  near, 
and  playing  over  his  guard  at  the  half-stick,  but  some- 
how Willum  blunders  through,  catching  the  stick  on 
his  shoulders,  neck,  sides,  every  now  and  then,  any- 
Avhere  but  on  his  head,  and  his  returns  are  heavy  and 
straight,  and  he  is  the  youngest  gamester  and  a  favor- 
ite in  the  parish,  and  his  gallant  stand  brings  down 
shouts  and  cheers,  and  the  knowing  ones  think  he'll 
win  if  he  keeps  steady,  and  Tom  on  the  groom's 
shoulder  holds  his  hands  together,  and  can  hardly 
breathe  for  excitement. 

Alas  for  Willum !  his  sweetheart,  getting  tired  of 
female  companionship,  has  been  hunting  the  booths  to 
see  where  he  can  have  got  to,  and  now  catches  sight 
of  him  on  the  stage  in  full  combat.  She  flushes  and 


THE  VEAST.  63 

turns  pale ;  her  old  aunt  catches  hold  of  her,  saying, 
"Bless'ee,  child,  doan't'ee  go  a'nigst  it;"  but  she 
breaks  away  and  runs  towards  the  stage  calling  his 
name.  Willum  keeps  up  his  guard  stoutly,  but 
glances  for  a  moment  towai'ds  the  voice.  No  guard 
will  do  it,  Willum,  without  the  eye.  The  shepherd 
steps  round  and  strikes,  and  the  point  of  the  stick 
just  grazes  Willum's  forehead,  fetching  off  the  skin, 
and  the  blood  flows,  and  the  umpire  cries  "  Hold," 
and  poor  Willum's  chance  is  up  for  the  day.  But  he 
takes  it  very  well,  and  puts  on  his  old  hat  and  coat, 
and  goes  down  to  be  scolded  by  his  sweetheart,  and  led 
away  out  of  mischief.  Tom  hears  him  say  coaxingly, 
as  he  walks  off — 

"  Now  doan't'ee,  Rachel !  I  wouldn't  ha'  done  it, 
only  I  wanted  summut  to  buy'ee  a  fairing  wi',  and  I 
be  as  vlush  o'  money  as  a  twod  o'  veathers." 

"  Thee  mind  what  I  tells'ee,"  rejoins  Rachel  saucily, 
"and  doan't'ee  kep  blethering  about  fairings."  Tom 
resolves  in  his  heart  to  give  Willum  the  remainder  of 
his  two  shillings  after  the  back-swording. 

Joe  Willis  has  all  the  luck  to-day.  His  next  bout 
ends  in  an  easy  victory,  while  the  shepherd  has  a  tough 
job  to  break  his  second  head  ;  and  when  Joe  and  the 
shepherd  meet,  and  the  whole  circle  expect  and  hope 
to  see  him  get  a  broken  crown,  the  shepherd  slips  in 
the  first  round  and  falls  against  the  rails,  hurting  him- 
self so  that  the  old  farmer  Avill  not  let  him  go  on,  much 
as  he  wishes  to  try ;  and  that  impostor  Joe  (for  he  is 


64  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

certainly  not  the  best  man)  struts  and  swaggers  about 
the  stage  the  conquering  gamester,  though  he  hasn't 
had  five  minutes  really  trying  play. 

Joe  takes  the  new  hat  in  his  hand,  and  puts  the 
money  into  it,  and  then,  as  if  a  thought  strikes  him 
and  he  doesn't  think  his  victory  quite  acknowledged 
down  below,  walks  to  each  face  of  the  stage,  and  looks 
down,  shaking  the  money,  and  chaffing,  as  how  he'll 
stake  hat  and  money  and  another  half-sovereign  "  agin 
any  gamester  as  hasn't  played  already."  Cunning  Joe ! 
he  thus  gets  rid  of  "VVillum  and  the  shepherd,  who  is 
quite  fresh  again. 

No  one  seems  to  like  the  offer,  and  the  umpire  is 
just  coming  down,  when  a  queer  old  hat,  something 
like  a  Doctor  of  Divinity's  shovel,  is  chucked  on  to 
the  stage,  and  an  elderly  quiet  man  steps  out,  who  has 
been  watching  the  play,  saying  he  should  like  to  cross 
a  stick  wi'  the  prodigalish  young  chap. 

The  crowd  cheer  and  begin  to  chaff  Joe,  who  turns 
up  his  nose  and  swaggers  across  to  the  sticks.  "  Imp'- 
dent  old  wosbird !"  says  he,  "I'll  break  the  bald 
head  on  un  to  the  truth." 

The  old  boy  is  very  bald  certainly,  and  the  blood 
will  show  fast  enough  if  you  can  touch  him,  Joe. 

He  takes  off  his  long  flapped  coat,  and  stands  up  in 
a  long  flapped  waistcoat,  which  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley 
might  have  worn  when  it  was  new,  picks  out  a  stick, 
and  is  ready  for  Master  Joe,  who  loses  no  time,  but 
begins  his  old  game,  whack,  whack,  whack,  trying  to 


THE   YEAST.  65 

break  down  the  old  man's  guard  by  sheer  strength. 
But  it  won't  do — he  catches  every  blow  close  by  the 
basket,  and  though  he  is  rather  stiff  in  his  returns, 
after  a  minute  walks  Joe  about  the  stage,  and  is  clearly 
a  staunch  old  gamester.  Joe  now  comes  in,  and  making 
the  most  of  his  height,  tries  to  get  over  the  old  man's 
guard  at  half-stick,  by  which  he  takes  a  smart  blow 
in  the  ribs  and  another  on  the  elbow  and  nothing 
more.  And  now  he  loses  wind  and  begins  to  puff, 
and  the  crowd  laugh  :  "  Cry  '  hold,'  Joe — thee'st  met 
thy  match  !"  Instead  of  taking  good  advice  and 
getting  his  wind,  Joe  loses  his  temper,  and  strikes  at 
the  old  man's  body. 

"Blood,  blood!"  shout  the  crowd,  '"Joe's  head's 
broke  !" 

Who'd  have  thought  it  ?  How  did  it  come  ?  That 
body-blow  left  Joe's  head  unguarded  for  a  moment, 
and  with  one  turn  of  the  wrist  the  old  gentleman  has 
picked  a  neat  little  bit  of  skin  off  the  middle  of  his 
forehead,  and  though  he  won't  believe  it,  and  hammers 
on  for  three  more  blows  despite  of  the  shouts,  is  then 
convinced  by  the  blood  trickling  into  his  eye.  Poor 
Joe  is  sadly  crestfallen,  and  fumbles  in  his  pocket  for 
the  other  half-sovereign,  but  the  old  gamester  won't 
have  it.  "  Keep  thy  money,  man,  and  gi's  thy  hand," 
says  he,  and  they  shake  hands ;  but  the  old  gamester 
gives  the  new  hat  to  the  shepherd,  and,  soon  after,  the 
half-sovereign  to  Willum,  who  thereout  decorates  his 
sweetheart  with  ribbons  to  his  heart's  content. 


66  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Who  can  a  be  ?"  "  Wur  do  a  cum  from  ?"  ask  the 
crowd.  And  it  soon  flies  about  that  the  old  west- 
country  champion,  who  played  a  tie  with  Shaw  the 
Lifeguardsman  at  "Vizes"  twenty  years  before,  has 
broken  Joe  Willis's  crown  for  him. 

How  my  country  fair  is  spinning  out !  I  see  I  must 
skip  the  wrestling,  and  the  boys  jumping  in  sacks,  and 
rolling  wheelbarrows  blindfolded ;  and  the  donkey- 
race,  and  the  fight  which  arose  thereout,  marring  the 
otherwise  peaceful  "  veast ;"  and  the  frightened  scurry- 
ing away  of  the  female  feast-goers,  and  descent  of 
Squire  Brown,  summoned  by  the  wife  of  one  of  the 
combatants  to  stop  it ;  which  he  wouldn't  start  to  do  till 
he  had  got  on  his  top-boots.  Tom  is  carried  away  by 
old  Benjy,  dog-tired  and  surfeited  with  pleasure,  as  the 
evening  comes  on  and  the  dancing  begins  in  the  booths  ; 
and  though  Willum  and  Rachel  in  her  new  ribbons 
and  many  another  good  lad  and  lass  don't  come  away 
just  yet,  but  have  a  good  step  out,  and  enjoy  it,  and 
get  no  harm  thereby,  yet  we,  being  sober  folk,  will  just 
stroll  away  up  through  the  churchyard,  and  by  the  old 
yew-tree ;  and  get  a  quiet  dish  of  tea  and  a  parle  with 
our  gossips,  as  the  steady  ones  of  our  village  do,  and 
so  to  bed. 

That's  the  fair  true  sketch,  as  far  as  it  goes,  of  one 
of  the  larger  village  feasts  in  the  Vale  of  Berks,  when 
I  was  a  little  boy.  They  are  much  altered  for  the 
worse,  I  am  told.  I  haven't  been  at  one  these  twenty 
years,  but  I  have  been  at  the  statute  fairs  in  some 


CRAVEN  ARMS,  UFFINCTON 


THE  VEAST.  67 

west-country  towns,  where  servants  are  hired,  and 
greater  abominations  cannot  be  found.  What  village 
feasts  have  come  to,  I  fear,  in  many  cases,  may  be  read 
in  the  pages  of  Yeast,  (though  I  never  saw  one  so  bad 
-thank  God !) 

Do  you  want  to  know  why  ?  It  is  because,  as  I  said 
before,  gentlefolk  and  farmers  have  left  off  joining  or 
taking  an  interest  in  them.  They  don't  either  subscribe 
to  the  prizes,  or  go  down  and  enjoy  the  fun. 

Is  this  a  good  or  a  bad  sign  ?  I  hardly  know.  Bad, 
sure  enough,  if  it  only  arises  from  the  further  separa- 
tion of  classes  consequent  on  twenty  years  of  buying 
cheap  and  selling  dear,  and  its  accompanying  over- 
work ;  or  because  our  sons  and  daughters  have  their 
hearts  in  London  Club-life,  or  so-called  Society,  instead 
of  in  the  old  English  home  duties;  because  farmers' 
sons  are  apeing  fine  gentlemen,  and  farmers'  daughters 
caring  more  to  make  bad  foreign  music  than  good 
English  cheeses.  Good,  perhaps,  if  it  be  that  the 
time  for  the  old  "  veast  "  has  gone  by,  that  it  is  no 
longer  the  healthy  sound  expression  of  English  country 
holiday-making ;  that,  in  fact,  we  as  a  nation  have  got 
beyond  it,  and  are  in  a  transition  state,  feeling  for  and 
soon  likely  to  find  some  better  substitute. 

Only  I  have  just  got  this  to  say  before  I  quit  the 
text.  Don't  let  reformers  of  any  sort  think  that  they 
are  going  really  to  lay  hold  of  the  working  boys  and 
young  men  of  England  by  any  educational  grapnel 
whatever,  which  hasn't  some  bond  fide  equivalent  for 


68  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  games  of  the  old  country  "  veast  "in  it ;  something 
to  put  in  the  place  of  the  back-swording  and  wrestling 
and  racing ;  something  to  try  the  muscles  of  men's 
bodies,  and  the  endurance  of  their  hearts,  and  to  make 
them  rejoice  in  their  strength.  In  all  the  new-fangled 
comprehensive  plans  which  I  see,  this  is  all  left  out ; 
and  the  consequence  is,  that  your  great  Mechanics' 
Institutes  end  in  intellectual  priggism,  and  your 
Christian  Young  Men's  Societies  in  religious  Phar- 
isaism. 

Well,  well,  we  must  bide  our  time.  Life  isn't  all 
beer  and  skittles, — but  beer  and  skittles,  or  something 
better  of  the  same  sort,  must  form  a  good  part  of  every 
Englishman's  education.  If  I  could  only  drive  this 
into  the  heads  of  you  rising  Parliamentary  Lords,  and 
young  swells  who  "  have  your  ways  made  for  you,"  as 
the  saying  is, — you,  who  frequent  palaver  houses  and 
West-end  clubs,  waiting  always  ready  to  strap  your- 
selves on  to  the  back  of  poor  dear  old  John,  as  soon  as 
the  present  used-up  lot  (your  fathers  and  uncles),  who 
sit  there  on  the  great  Parliamentary-majorities'  pack- 
saddle,  and  make  belief  they're  guiding  him  with  their 
red-tape  bridle,  tumble  or  have  to  be  lifted  off! 

I  don't  think  much  of  you  yet — I  wish  I  could ; 
though  you  do  go  talking  and  lecturing  up  and  down 
the  counti-y  to  crowded  audiences,  and  are  busy  with 
all  sorts  of  philanthropic  intellectualism,  and  circulat- 
ing libraries  and  museums,  and  Heaven  only  knows 
what  besides ;  and  try  to  make  us  think,  through 


THE  YEAST.  69 

newspaper  reports,  that  you  are,  even  as  we,  of  the 
working  classes.  But,  bless  your  hearts,  we  "ain't  so 
green,"  though  lots  of  us  of  all  sorts  toady  you  enough 
certainly,  and  try  to  make  you  think  so. 

I'll  tell  you  what  to  do  now  :  instead  of  all  this 
trumpeting  and  fuss,  which  is  only  the  old  Parlia- 
mentary-majority dodge  over  again — just  you  go  each 
of  you  (you've  plenty  of  time  for  it,  if  you'll  only  give 
up  t'other  line,)  and  quietly  make  three  or  four  friends, 
real  friends,  among  us.  You'll  find  a  little  trouble  in 
getting  at  the  right  sort,  because  such  birds  don't  come 
lightly  to  your  lure — but  found  they  may  be.  Take, 
say,  two  out  of  the  professions,  lawyer,  parson,  doctor 
— which  you  will ;  one  out  of  trade,  and  three  or  four 
out  of  the  working  classes — tailors,  engineers,  carpen- 
ters, engravers — there's  plenty  of  choice.  Let  them 
be  men  of  your  own  ages,  mind,  and  ask  them  to  your 
homes  ;  introduce  them  to  your  wives  and  sisters,  and 
get  introduced  to  theirs :  give  them  good  dinners,  and 
talk  to  them  about  what  is  really  at  the  bottom  of  your 
heart,  and  box,  and  run,  and  row  w  ith  them,  when  you 
have  a  chance.  Do  all  this  honestly  as  man  to  man, 
and  by  the  time  you  come  to  ride  old  John,  you'll  be 
able  to  do  something  more  than  sit  on  his  back,  and 
may  feel  his  mouth  with  some  stronger  bridle  than  a 
red-tape  one. 

Ah,  if  you  only  would !  But  you  have  got  too  far 
out  of  the  right  rut,  I  fear.  Too  much  over-civiliza- 
tion, and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches.  It  is  easier  for  a 


70  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle.  More's  the 
pity.  I  never  came  across  but  two  of  you,  who  could 
value  a  man  wholly  and  solely  for  what  was  in  him; 
who  thought  themselves  verily  and  indeed  of  the  same 
flesh  and  blood  as  John  Jones  the  attorney's  clei'k,  and 
Bill  Smith  the  costermonger,  and  could  act  as  if  they 
thought  so. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES. 

POOR  old  Benjy!  the  "  rheuiuatiz  "  has  much  to 
answer  for  all  through  English  country  sides,  but  it 
never  played  a  scurvier  trick  than  in  laying  thee  by 
the  heels,  when  thou  wast  yet  in  a  green  old  age.  The 
enemy,  which  had  lonjr  been  carrying  on  a  sort  of  bor- 

t  *-  O 

der  warfare,  and  trying  his  strength  against  Benjy's 
on  the  battle-field  of  his  hands  and  legs,  now,  mus- 
tering all  his  forces,  began  laying  siege  to  the  citadel, 
and  overrunning  the  whole  country.  Benjy  was  seized 
in  the  back  and  loins ;  and  though  he  made  strong  and 
brave  fight,  it  was  soon  clear  enough  that  all  which 
could  be  beaten  of  poor  old  Benjy  would  have  to  give 
in  before  long. 

It  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  now.  with  the  help  of 
his  big  stick  and  frequent  stops,  to  hobble  down  to  the 
canal  with  Master  Tom,  and  bait  his  hook  for  him,  and 
sit  and  watch  his  angling,  telling  him  quaint  old  coun- 
try stories  :  and  when  Tom  had  no  sport,  and  detecting 
a  rat  some  hundred  yards  or  so  off  alon^  the  bank, 

•  O 

would  rush  off  with  Toby  the  turnspit  terrier,  his 
other  faithful  companion,  in  bootless  pursuit,  he  might 

71 


72  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

have  tumbled  in  and  been  drowned  twenty  times  over 
before  Benjy  could  have  got  near  him. 

Cheery  and  unmindful  of  himself  as  Benjy  was,  this 
loss  of  locomotive  power  bothered  him  greatly.  He 
had  got  a  new  object  in  his  old  age,  and  was  just  be- 
ginning to  think  himself  useful  again  in  the  world. 
He  feared  much  too  lest  Master  Tom  should  fall  back 
again  into  the  hands  of  Charity  and  the  women.  So 
he  tried  everything  he  could  think  of  to  get  set  up. 
He  even  went  an  expedition  to  the  dwelling  of  one  of 
those  queer  mortals,  who — say  what  we  will,  and  rea- 
son how  we  will — do  cure  simple  people  of  diseases  of 
one  kind  or  another  without  the  aid  of  physic ;  and  so 
get  to  themselves  the  reputation  of  using  charms,  and 
inspire  for  themselves  and  their  dwellings  great  re- 
spect, not  to  say  fear,  amongst  a  simple  folk  such  as 
the  dwellers  in  the  Vale  of  White  Horse.  Where  this 
power,  or  whatever  else  it  may  be,  descends  upon  the 
shoulders  of  a  man  whose  ways  are  not  straight,  he 
becomes  a  nuisance  to  the  neighborhood ;  a  receiver 
of  stolen  goods,  giver  of  love-potions,  and  deceiver  of 
silly  women  ;  the  avowed  enemy  of  law  and  order,  of 
justices  of  the  peace,  head-boroughs,  and  gamekeep- 
ers. Such  a  man  in  fact  as  was  recently  caught  trip- 
ping, and  deservedly  dealt  with  by  the  Leeds  justices, 
for  seducing  a  girl  who  had  come  to  him  to  get  back  a 
faithless  lover,  and  has  been  convicted  of  bigamy  since 
then.  Sometimes,  however,  they  are  of  quite  a  differ- 
ent stamp,  men  who  pretend  to  nothing,  and  are  with 


SUNDRY   WARS  AND  ALLIANCES.  73 

difficulty  persuaded  to  exercise  their  occult  arts  in  the 
simplest  cases. 

Of  this  latter  sort  was  old  farmer  Ives,  as  he  was 
called,  the  "  wise  man  "  to  whom  Benjy  resorted  (tak- 
ing Torn  with  him  as  usual),  in  the  early  spring  of  the 
year  next  after  the  feast  described  in  the  last  chapter. 
Why  he  was  called  "  farmer"  I  cannot  say,  unless  it 
be  that  he  was  the  owner  of  a  cow,  a  pig  or  two,  and 
some  poultry,  which  he  maintained  on  about  an  acre 
of  land  enclosed  from  the  middle  of  a  Avild  common, 
on  which  probably  his  father  had  squatted  before  lords 
of  manors  looked  as  keenly  after  their  rights  as  they 
do  now.  Here  he  had  lived  no  one  knew  how  long,  a 
solitary  man.  It  was  often  rumored  that  he  was  to  be 
turned  out  and  his  cottage  pulled  down,  but  somehow 
it  never  came  to  pass;  and  his  pigs  and  cow  went  graz- 
ing on  the  common,  and  his  geese  hissed  at  the  passing 
children  and  at  the  heels  of  the  horse  of  my  lord's 
steward,  who  often  rode  by  with  a  covetous  eye  on  the 
enclosure,  still  unmolested.  His  dwelling  was  some 
miles  from  our  village ;  so  Benjy,  who  was  half 
ashamed  of  his  errand,  and  wholly  unable  to  walk 
there,  had  to  exercise  much  ingenuity  to  get  the  means 
of  transporting  himself  and  Tom  thither  Avithout  ex- 
citing suspicion.  However,  one  fine  May  morning  he 
managed  to  borrow  the  old  blind  pony  of  our  friend 
the  publican,  and  Tom  persuaded  Madam  Brown  to 
give  him  a  holiday  to  spend  with  old  Benjy,  and  to 
lend  them  the  Squire's  light  cart,  stored  with  bread 


74        TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  cold  meat  and  a  bottle  of  ale.  And  so  the  two  in 
high  glee  started  behind  old  Dobbin,  and  jogged  along 
the  deep-rutted  plashy  roads,  which  had  not  been 
mended  after  the  winter's  wear,  towards  the  dwelling 
of  the  wizard.  About  noon  they  passed  the  gate 
which  opened  on  to  the  large  common,  and  old  Dobbin 
toiled  slowly  up  the  hill,  while  Benjy  pointed  out  a  lit- 
tle deep  dingle  on  the  left,  out  of  which  swelled  a  tiny 
stream.  As  they  crept  up  the  hill  the  tops  of  a  few 
birch-trees  came  in  sight,  and  blue  smoke  curling  up 
through  their  delicate  light  boughs  ;  and  then  the  lit- 
tle white  thatched  home  and  patch  of  enclosed  ground 
of  farmer  Ives,  lying  cradled  in  the  dingle,  with  the  gay 
gorse  common  rising  behind  and  on  both  sides ;  while 
in  front,  after  traversing  a  gentle  slope,  the  eye  might 
travel  for  miles  and  miles  over  the  rich  vale.  They 
now  left  the  main  road  and  struck  into  a  green  tract 
over  the  common  marked  lightly  with  wheel  and  horse- 
shoe, which  led  down  into  the  dingle  and  stopped  at 
the  rough  gate  of  farmer  Ivcs.  Here  they  found  the 
farmer,  an  iron-grey  old  man,  with  a  bushy  eyebrow 
and  strong  aquiline  nose,  busied  in  one  of  his  voca- 
tions. He  was  a  horse  and  cow  doctor,  and  was  tend- 
ing a  sick  beast  which  had  been  sent  up  to  be  cured. 
Benjy  hailed  him  as  an  old  friend,  and  he  returned  the 
greeting  cordially  enough,  looking  however  hard  for  a 
moment  both  at  Benjy  and  Tom,  to  see  whether  there 
was  more  in  their  visit  than  appeared  at  first  sight.  It 
was  a  work  of  some  difficulty  and  danger  for  Benjy  to 


COTTAGE,  UFFINCTON 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES.  75 

reach  the  ground,  which  however  he  managed  to  do 
without  mishap  ;  and  then  he  devoted  himself  to  un- 
harnessing Dobbin,  and  turning  him  out  for  a  graze 
("  a  run  "  one  could  not  say  of  that  virtuous  steed)  on 
the  common.  This  done,  he  extricated  the  cold  pro- 
visions from  the  cart,  and  they  entered  the  farmer's 
wicket ;  and  he,  shutting  up  the  knife  with  Avhich  he 
was  taking  maggots  out  of  the  cow's  back  and  sides, 
accompanied  them  towards  the  cottage.  A  big  old 
lurcher  got  up  slowly  from  the  door-stone,  stretching 
first  one  hind  leg  and  then  the  other,  and  taking  Tom's 
caresses  and  the  presence  of  Toby,  who  kept  however 
at  a  respectful  distance,  Avith  equal  indifference. 

"  Us  be  cum  to  pay'e  a  visit.  I've  a  been  long 
minded  to  do't  for  old  sake's  sake,  only  I  vinds  I 
dwont  get  about  now  as  I'd  use  to't.  I  be  so  .plaguy 
bad  wi'  th'  rumatiz  in  my  back."  Benjy  paused,  in 
hopes  of  drawing  the  farmer  at  once  on  the  subject  of 
his  ailment  without  further  direct  application. 

"  Ah,  I  see  as  you  bean't  quite  so  lissom  as  you 
was,"  replied  the  farmer  with  a  grim  smile,  as  he 
lifted  the  latch  of  his  door:  "we  bean't  so  young  as 
we  was,  nother  on  us,  wuss  luck." 

The  farmer's  cottage  was  very  like  those  of  the  bet- 
ter class  of  peasantry  in  general.  A  snug  chimney 
corner  with  two  seats,  and  a  small  carpet  on  the 
hearth,  an  old  flint  gun  and  a  pair  of  spurs  over  the 
fireplace,  a  dresser  with  shelves  on  which  some  bright 
pewter  plates  and  crockery  ware  were  arranged,  an  old 


76  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

walnut  table,  a  few  chairs  and  settles,  some  framed 
samplers,  and  an  old  print  or  two,  and  a  bookcase  with 
some  dozen  volumes  on  the  walls,  a  rack  with  flitches 
of  bacon,  and  other  stores  fastened  to  the  ceiling,  and 
you  have  the  best  part  of  the  furniture.  No  sign  of 
occult  art  is  to  be  seen,  unless  the  bundles  of  dried 
herbs  hanging  to  the  rack  and  in  the  ingle,  and 

O        O  o        ' 

the  row  of  labelled  phials  on  one  of  the  shelves, 
betoken  it. 

Tom  played  about  with  some  kittens  who  occupied 
the  hearth,  and  with  a  goat  who  walked  demurely  in  at 
the  open  door,  while  their  host  and  Benjy  spread  the 
table  for  dinner — and  was  soon  engaged  in  conflict 
with  the  cold  meat,  to  which  he  did  much  honor.  The 
two  old  men's  talk  was  of  old  comrades  and  their 
deeds,  mute  inglorious  Miltons  of  the  Vale,  and  of  the 
doings  thirty  years  back — which  didn't  interest  him 
much,  except  when  they  spoke  of  the  making  of  the 
canal,  and  then  indeed  he  began  to  listen  with  all  his 
ears,  and  learned  to  his  no  small  wonder  that  his  dear 
and  wonderful  canal  had  not  been  there  always-^was 
not  in  fact  so  old  as  Benjy  or  farmer  Ives,  which 
caused  a  strange  commotion  in  his  small  brain. 

After  dinner  Benjy  called  attention  to  a  wart  which 
Tom  had  on  the  knuckles  of  his  hand,  and  which  the 
family  doctor  had  been  trying  his  skill  on  without  suc- 
cess, and  begged  the  farmer  to  charm  it  away.  Farmer 
Ives  looked  at  it,  muttered  something  or  another  over 
it,  and  cut  some  notches  in  a  short  stick,  which  he 


SUNDRY   WARS   AND   ALLIANCES.  77 

handed  to  Benjy,  giving  him  instructions  for  cutting 
it  down  on  certain  days,  and  cautioning  Tom  not  to 
meddle  with  the  wart  for  a  fortnight.  And  then  they 
strolled  out  and  sat  on  a  bench  in  the  sun  with  their 
pipes,  and  the  pigs  came  up  and  grunted  sociably  and 
let  Tom  scratch  them  ;  and  the  farmer,  seeing  how  he 
liked  animals,  stood  up  and  held  his  arms  in  the  air 
and  gave  a  call,  which  brought  a  flock  of  pigeons 
wheeling  and  dashing  through  the  birch-trees.  They 
settled  down  in  clusters  on  the  farmer's  arms  and 
shoulders,  making  love  to  him  and  scrambling  over 
one  another's  backs  to  get  to  his  face ;  and  then 
he  threw  them  all  off,  and  they  fluttered  about  close 
by.  and  lighted  on  him  again  and  again  when  he 
held  up  his  arms.  All  the  creatures  about  the  place 
were  clean  and  fearless,  quite  unlike  their  relations 
elsewhere :  and  Tom  begged  to  be  taught  how 
to  make  all  the  pigs  and  cows  and  poultry  in  our 
village  tame,  at  which  the  farmer  only  gave  one  of  his 
grim  chuckles. 

It  wasn't  till  they  were  just  ready  to  go,  and  old 
Dobbin  was  harnessed,  that  Benjy  broached  the  sub- 
ject of  his  rheumatism  again,  detailing  his  symptoms 
one  by  one.  Poor  old  boy  !  He  hoped  the  farmer 
could  charm  it  away  as  easily  as  he  could  Tom's  wart, 
arid  was  ready  with  equal  faith  to  put  another  notched 
stick  into  his  other  pocket,  for  the  cure  of  his  own  ail- 
ments. The  physician  shook  his  head,  but  neverthe- 
less produced  a  bottle  and  handed  it  to  Benjy  with  in- 


78  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

structions  for  use.  "  Not  as  't'll  do'e  much  good — 
leastways  I  be  afeared  not,"  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hand  and  looking  up  at  them  in  the  cart ;  "  there's 
only  one  thing  as  I  knows  on,  as'll  cure  ojd  folks  like 
you  and  I  o'  th'  rhumatis." 

"Wot  be  that  then,  farmer?"  inquired  Benjy. 

"  Churchyard  mould,"  said  the  old  iron-grey  man, 
with  another  chuckle.  And  so  they  said  their  good- 
byes and  went  their  ways  home.  Tom's  wart  was  gone 
in  a  fortnight,  but  not  so  Benjy 's  rheumatism,  which 
laid  him  by  the  heels  more  and  more.  And  though 
Tom  still  spent  many  an  hour  with  him,  as  lie  sat  on 
a  bench  in  the  sunshine,  or  by  the  chimney  corner 
when  it  was  cold,  he  soon  had  to  seek  elsewhere  for  his 
regular  companions. 

Tom  had  been  accustomed  often  to  accompany  his 
mother  in  her  visits  to  the  cottages,  and  had  thereby 
made  acquaintance  with  many  of  the  village  boys  of 
his  own  age.  There  was  Job  Rudkin,  son  of  widow 
Rudkin,  the  most  bustling  woman  in  the  parish.  How 
she  could  ever  have  had  such  a  stolid  boy  as  Job  for  a 
child  must  always  remain  a  mystery.  The  first  time 
Tom  went  to  their  cottage  with  his  mother  Job  was  not 
in-doors,  but  he  entered  soon  after,  and  stood  with  both 
hands  in  his  pockets  staring  at  Tom.  Widow  Rudkin, 
who  would  have  had  to  cross  Madam  to  get  at  young 
Hopeful — a  breach  of  good  manners  of  which  she  was 
wholly  incapable — began  a  series  of  pantomime  signs, 


SUNDRY   WARS  AND  ALLIANCES.  79 

which  only  puzzled  him,  and  at  last,  unable  to  contain 
herself  longer,  burst  out  with,  "  Job  I  Job  !  where's 
thy  cap?" 

"What!  beant'e  on  ma'  head,  mother?"  replied 
Job,  slowly  extricating  one  hand  from  a  pocket  and 
feeling  for  the  article  in  question  ;  which  he  found  on 
his  head  sure  enough,  and  left  there,  to  his  mother's 
horror  and  Tom's  great  delight. 

Then  there  was  poor  Jacob  Dodson,  the  half-witted 
boy,  who  ambled  about  cheerfully,  undertaking  mes- 
sages and  little  helpful  odds  and  ends  for  every  one, 
which,  however,  poor  Jacob  managed  always  hope- 
lessly to  embrangle.  Everything  came  to  pieces  in  his 
hands,  and  nothing  would  stop  in  his  head.  They 
nicknamed  him  Jacob  Doodle-calf. 

But  above  all  there  was  Harry  Winburn,  the  quick- 
est and  best  boy  in  the  parish.  He  might  be  a  year 
older  than  Tom,  but  was  very  little  bigger,  and  he  was 
the  Crichton  of  our  village  boys.  He  could  wrestle 
and  climb  and  run  better  than  all  the  rest,  and  learned 
all  that  the  schoolmaster  could  teach  him  faster  than 
that  worthy  at  all  liked.  He  was  a  boy  to  be  proud 
of,  with  his  curly  brown  hair,  keen  grey  eye,  straight 
active  figure,  and  little  ears  and  hands  and  feet,  "  as 
fine  as  a  lord's,"  as  Charity  remarked  to  Tom  one 
day,  talking  as  usual  great  nonsense.  Lords'  hands 
and  ears  and  feet  are  just  as  ugly  as  other  folks'  when 
they  are  children,  as  any  one  may  convince  themselves 
if  they  like  to  look.  Tight  boots  and  gloves,  and 


80  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.  v 

doing  nothing  with  them,  I  allow  make  a  difference  by 
the  time  they  are  twenty. 

Now  that  Benjy  was  laid  on  the  shelf,  and  his  young 
brothers  were  still  under  petticoat  government,  Tom, 
in  search  of  companions,  began  to  cultivate  the  village 
boys  generally  more  and  more.  Squire  Brown,  be  it 
said,  was  a  true  blue  tory  to  the  backbone,  and  be- 
lieved honestly  that  the  powers  which  be  were  ordained 
of  God,  and  that  loyalty  and  steadfast  obedience  were 
men's  first  duties.  Whether  it  were  in  consequence  or 
in  spite  of  his  political  creed,  I  do  not  mean  to  give  an 
opinion,  though  I  have  one  :  but  certain  it  is,  that  he 
held  therewith  divers  social  principles  not  generally 
supposed  to  be  true  blue  in  color.  Foremost  of  these, 
and  the  one  which  the  Squire  loved  to  propound  above 
all  others,  was  the  belief  that  a  man  is  to  be  valued 
wholly  and  solely  for  that  which  he  is  in  himself,  for 
that  which  stands  up  in  the  four  fleshly  walls  of  him, 
apart  from  clothes,  rank,  fortune,  and  all  externals 
whatsoever.  Which  belief  I  take  to  be  a  wholesome 
corrective  of  all  political  opinions,  and,  if  held  sin- 
cerely, to  make  all  opinions  equally  harmless,  whether 
they  be  blue,  red,  or  green.  As  a  necessary  corollary 
to  this  belief,  Squire  Brown  held  further  that  it  didn't 
matter  a  straw  whether  his  son  associated  with  lords' 
sons  or  ploughmen's  sons,  provided  they  were  brave 
and  honest.  He  himself  had  played  football  and  gone 
birds'-nesting  with  the  farmers  whom  he  met  at  vestry 
and  the  laborers  who  tilled  their  fields,  and  so  had  his 


SCHOOL  HOUSE,   UFFINCTON 


SUNDRY   WARS  AND  ALLIANCES.  81 

father  and  grandfather  with  their  progenitors.  So  he 
encouraged  Tom  in  his  intimacy  with  the  boys  of  the 
village,  and  forwarded  it  by  all  means  in  his  power, 
and  gave  them  the  run  of  a  close  for  a  playground,  and 
provided  bats  and  balls  and  a  football  for  their  sports. 

Our  village  was  blessed  amongst  other  things  with  a 
well-endowed  school.  The  building  stood  by  itself, 
apart  from  the  master's  house,  on  an  angle  of  ground 
where  three  roads  met ;  an  old  grey  stone  building 
with  a  steep  roof  and  mullioned  windows.  On  one  of 
the  opposite  angles  stood  Squire  Brown's  stables  and 
kennel,  with  their  backs  to  the  road,  over  which 
towered  a  great  elm-tree ;  on  the  third  stood  the  vil- 
lage carpenter  and  wheelwright's  large  open  shop,  and 
his  house  and  the  schoolmaster's,  with  long  low  eaves 
under  which  the  swallows  built  by  scores. 

The  moment  Tom's  lessons  were  over,  he  would  now 
get  him  down  to  this  corner  by  the  stables,  and  watch 
till  the  boys  came  out  of  school.  He  prevailed  on  the 
groom  to  cut  notches  for  him  in  the  bark  of  the  elm, 
so  that  he  could  climb  into  the  lower  branches,  and 
there  he  would  sit  watching  the  school  door,  and  specu- 
lating on  the  possibility  of  turning  the  elm  into  a 
dwelling-place  for  himself  and  friends  after  the  manner 
of  the  Swiss  Family  Robinson.  But  the  school  hours 
were  long  and  Tom's  patience  short,  so  that  soon  he 
began  to  descend  into  the  street,  and  go  and  peep  in  at 
the  school  door  and  the  wheelwright's  shop,  and  look 
out  for  something  to  while  away  the  time.  Now  the 


82  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

wheelwright  was  a  choleric  man,  and,  one  fine  after- 
noon, returning  from  a  short  absence,  found  Tom  oc- 
cupied with  one  of  his  pet  adzes,  the  edge  of  which 
was  fast  vanishing  under  our  hero's  care.  A  speedy 
flight  saved  Tom  from  all  but  one  sound  cuff  on  the 
ears,  but  he  resented  this  unjustifiable  interruption  of 
his  first  essays  at  carpentering,  and  still  more  the  fur- 
ther proceedings  of  the  wheelwright,  who  cut  a  switch 
and  hung  it  over  the  door  of  his  workshop,  threatening 
to  use  it  upon  Tom  if  he  came  within  twenty  yards  of 
his  gate.  So  Tom,  to  retaliate,  commenced  a  war 
upon  the  swallows  who  dwelt  under  the  wheelwright's 
eaves,  whom  he  harassed  with  sticks  and  stones,  and 
being  fleeter  of  foot  than  his  enemy,  escaped  all  pun- 
ishment and  kept  him  in  perpetual  anger.  Moreover 
his  presence  about  the  school  door  began  to  incense  the 
master,  as  the  boys  in  that  neighborhood  neglected  their 
lessons  in  consequence  :  and  more  than  once  he  issued 
into  the  porch,  rod  in  hand,  just  as  Tom  beat  a  hasty 
retreat.  And  he  and  the  wheelwright,  laying  their 
heads  together,  resolved  to  acquaint  the  Squire  with 
Tom's  afternoon  occupations ;  but  in  order  to  do  it 
with  effect,  determined  to  take  him  captive  and  lead 
him  away  to  judgment  fresh  from  his  evil  doings.  This 
they  would  have  found  some  difficulty  in  doing,  had 
Tom  continued  the  war  single-handed,  or  rather  single- 
footed,  for  he  would  have  taken  to  the  deepest  part  of 
Pebbly  Brook  to  escape  them ;  but,  like  other  active 
powers,  he  was  ruined  by  his  alliances.  Poor  Jacob 


SUNDRY  WARS  AND  ALLIANCES,  83 

Doodle-calf  could  not  go  to  school  with  the  other  boys, 
and  one  fine  afternoon,  about  three  o'clock  (the  school 
broke  up  at  four),  Tom  found  him  ambling  about  the 
street,  and  pressed  him  into  a  visit  to  the  school  porch. 
Jacob,  always  ready  to  do  what  he  was  asked,  con- 
sented, and  the  two  stole  down  to  the  school  together. 
Tom  first  reconnoitred  the  wheelwright's  shop,  and 
seeing  no  signs  of  activity,  thought  all  safe  in  that 
quarter,  and  ordered  at  once  an  advance  of  all  his 
troops  upon  the  school  porch.  The  door  of  the  school 
was  ajar,  and  the  boys  seated  on  the  nearest  bench  at 
once  recognized  and  opened  a  correspondence  with  the 
invaders.  Tom,  waxing  bold,  kept  putting  his  head 
into  the  school  and  making  faces  at  the  master  when 
his  back  was  turned.  Poor  Jacob,  not  in  the  least 
comprehending  the  situation,  and  in  high  glee  at  find- 
ing himself  so  near  the  school,  which  he  had  never 
been  allowed  to  enter,  suddenly,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm, 
pushed  by  Tom,  and  ambling  three  steps  into  the 
school,  stood  there,  looking  round  him  and  nodding 
with  a  self-approving  smile.  The  master,  who  was 
stooping  over  a  boy's  slate,  with  his  back  to  the  door, 
became  aware  of  something  unusual,  and  turned 
quickly  round.  Tom  rushed  at  Jacob,  and  began 
dragging  him  back  by  his  smock-frock,  and  the  master 
made  at  them,  scattering  forms  and  boys  in  his  career. 
Even  now  they  might  have  escaped,  but  that  in  the 
porch,  barring  retreat,  appeared  the  crafty  wheel- 
wright, who  had  been  watching  all  their  proceedings. 


84  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

So  they  were  seized,  the  school  dismissed,  and  Tom 
and  Jacob  led  away  to  Squire  Brown  as  lawful  prize, 
the  boys  following  to  the  gate  in  groups,  and  specu- 
lating on  the  result. 

The  Squire  was  very  angry  at  first,  but  the  inter- 
view, by  Tom's  pleading,  ended  in  a  compromise. 
Tom  was  not  to  go  near  the  school  till  three  o'clock, 
and  only  then  if  he  had  done  his  own  lessons  well,  in 
Avhich  case  he  was  to  be  the  bearer  of  a  note  to  the 
master  from  Squire  Brown,  and  the  master  agreed  in 
such  case  to  release  ten  or  twelve  of  the  best  boys  an 
hour  before  the  time  of  breaking  up,  to  go  off  and 
play  in  the  close.  The  wheelwright's  adzes  and  swal- 
lows were  to  be  forever  respected ;  and  that  hero  and 
the  master  withdrew  to  the  servants'  hall,  to  drink  the 
Squire's  health,  well  satisfied  with  their  day's  work. 

The  second  act  of  Tom's  life  may  now  he  said  to 
have  begun.  The  Avar  of  independence  had  been 
over  for  some  time  :  none  of  the  women  now,  not  even 
his  mother's  maid,  dared  offer  to  help  him  in  dressing 
or  washing.  Between  ourselves,  he  had  often  at  first 
to  run  to  Benjy  in  an  unfinished  state  of  toilet :  Char- 
ity and  the  rest  of  them  seemed  to  take  a  delight  in 
putting  impossible  buttons  and  ties  in  the  middle  of 
his  back  ;  but  he  would  have  gone  without  nether 
integuments  altogether  sooner  than  have  had  recourse 
to  female  valeting.  He  had  a  room  to  himself,  and  his 
father  gave  him  sixpence  a  week  pocket-money.  All 
this  he  had  achieved  by  Benjy's  advice  and  assistance. 


SUNDRY   WARS   AND  ALLIANCES.  85 

But  now  he  had  conquered  another  step  in  life,  the 
step  which  all  real  boys  so  long  to  make  ;  he  had  got 
amongst  his  equals  in  age  and  strength,  and  could 
measure  himself  with  other  boys  ;  he  lived  with  those 
whose  pursuits  and  wishes  and  ways  were  the  same  in 
kind  as  his  own. 

The  little  governess  who  had  lately  been  installed  in 
the  house  found  her  work  grow  wondrouslv  easy,  for 
Tom  slaved  at  his  lessons  in  order  to  make  sure  of  his 
note  to  the  schoolmaster.  So  there  were  very  few  days 
in  the  week  in  which  Tom  and  the  village  boys  were 
not  playing  in  their  close  by  three  o'clock.  Prisoner's 
base,  rounders,  high-cock-a-lorum,  cricket,  football,  he 
was  soon  initiated  into  the  delights  of  them  all ;  and 
though  most  of  the  boys  were  older  than  himself,  he 
managed  to  hold  his  own  very  well.  He  was  naturally 
active  and  strong,  and  quick  of  eye  and  hand,  and  had 
the  advantage  of  light  shoes  and  well-fitting  drc— .  -  • 
that  in  a  short  time  he  could  run  and  jump  and  climb 
with  any  of  them. 

They  generally  finished  their  regular  games  half  an 
hour  or  so  before  tea-time,  and  then  began  trials  of 
skill  and  strength  in  many  ways.  Some  of  them 
would  catch  the  Shetland  pony  who  was  turned  out  in 
the  field,  and  get  two  or  three  together  on  his  back, 
and  the  little  rogue,  enjoying  the  fun.  would  gallop  off 
for  fifty  yards,  and  then  turn  round,  or  stop  short  and 
shoot  them  on  to  the  turf,  and  then  graze  quietly  on 
till  he  felt  another  load ;  others  played  peg-top  or 


86  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

marbles,  while  a  few  of  the  bigger  ones  stood  up  for  a 
bout  at  wrestling.  Tom  at  first  only  looked  on  at  this 
pastime,  but  it  had  peculiar  attractions  for  him,  and  he 
could  not  long  keep  out  of  it.  Elbow  and  collar  wrest- 
ling as  practised  in  the  western  counties  was  next  to 
back-swording,  the  way  to  fame  for  the  youth  of  the 
Vale ;  and  all  the  boys  knew  the  rules  of  it,  and  were 
more  or  less  expert.  But  Job  Rudkin  and  Harry 
Winburn  were  the  stars,  the  former  stiff  and  sturdy, 
with  legs  like  small  towers,  the  latter  pliant  as  india- 
rubber,  and  quick  as  lightning.  Day  after  day  they 
stood  foot  to  foot,  and  offered  first  one  hand  and  then 
the  other,  and  grappled  and  closed  and  swayed  and 
strained,  till  a  well-aimed  crook  of  the  heel  or  thrust 
of  the  loin  took  effect,  and  a  fair  back-fall  ended  the 
matter.  And  Tom  watched  with  all  his  eyes,  and  first 
challenged  one  of  the  less  scientific,  and  threw  him  ; 
and  so  one  by  one  wrestled  his  way  up  to  the  leaders. 
Then  indeed  for  months  he  had  a  poor  time  of  it ; 
it  was  not  long  indeed  before  he  could  manage  to  keep 
his  legs  against  Job,  for  that  hero  was  slow  of  offence, 
and  gained  his  victories  chiefly  by  allowing  others  to 
throw  themselves  against  his  immovable  legs  and  loins. 
But  Harry  Winburn  was  undeniably  his  master;  from 
the  first  clutch  of  hands  when  they  stood  up,  down  to 
the  last  trip  which  sent  him  on  his  back  on  the  turf, 
he  felt  that  Harry  knew  more  and  could  do  more  than 
he.  Luckily,  Harry's  bright  unconsciousness,  and 
Tom's  natural  good  temper,  kept  them  from  ever 


SUNDRY   WARS  AND  ALLIANCES.  87 

quarrelling ;  and  so  Tom  worked  on  and  on,  and  trod 
more  and  more  nearly  on  Harry's  heels,  and  at  last 
mastered  all  the  dodges  and  falls  except  one.  This 
one  was  Harry's  own  particular  invention  and  pet ;  he 
scarcely  ever  used  it  except  when  hard  pressed,  but 
then  out  it  came,  and  as  sure  as  it  did,  over  went  poor 
Tom.  He  thought  about  that  fall  at  his  meals,  in  his 
walks,  when  he  lay  awake  in  bed,  in  his  dreams, — but 
all  to  no  purpose ;  until  Harry  one  day  in  his  open 
way  suggested  to  him  how  he  thought  it  should  be 
met,  and  in  a  week  from  that  time  the  boys  were 
equal,  save  only  the  slight  difference  of  strength  in 
Harry's  favor  which  some  extra  ten  months  of  age 
gave.  Tom  had  often  afterwards  reason  to  be  thank- 
ful for  that  early  drilling,  and  above  all  for  having 
mastered  Harry  Winburn's  fall. 

Besides  their  home  games,  on  Saturdays  the  boys 
would  wander  all  over  the  neighborhood ;  sometimes 
to  the  downs,  or  up  to  the  camp,  where  they  cut  their 
initials  out  in  the  springy  turf,  and  watched  the  hawks 
soaring,  and  the  "  peert "  bird,  as  Harry  Winburn 
called  the  grey  plover,  gorgeous  in  his  wedding 
feathers ;  and  .so  home,  racing  down  the  Manger  with 
many  a  roll  among  the  thistles,  or  through  Uffington- 
wood  to  watch  the  fox  cubs  playing  in  the  green  rides  ; 
sometimes  to  Rosy  Brook,  to  cut  long  whispering  reeds 
which  grew  there,  to  make  pan-pipes  of;  sometimes  to 
Moor  Mills,  where  was  a  piece  of  old  forest  land,  with 
short  browsed  turf  and  tufted  brambly  thickets  stretch- 


88  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

ing  under  the  oaks,  amongst  which  rumor  declared  that 
a  raven,  last  of  his  race,  still  lingered  ;  or  to  the  sand- 
hills, in  vain  quest  of  rabbits  ;  and  birds'-nesting,  in 
the  season,  anywhere  and  everywhere. 

The  few  neighbors  of  the  Squire's  own  rank  every 
now  and  then  would  shrug  their  shoulders  as  they 
drove  or  rode  by  a  party  of  boys  with  Tom  in  the 
middle,  carrying  along  bulrushes  or  whispering  reeds,  or 
great  bundles  of  cowslip  and  meadow-sweet,  or  young 
starlings  or  magpies,  or  other  spoil  of  wood,  brook,  or 
meadow  ;  and  Lawyer  Red-tape  might  mutter  to  Squire 
Straightback  at  the  Board,  that  no  good  would  come 
of  the  young  Browns,  if  they  were  let  run  wild  with  all 
the  dirty  village  boys,  whom  the  best  farmers'  sons 
even  would  not  play  with.  And  the  Squire  might  re- 
ply with  a  shake  of  his  head,  that  his  sons  only  mixed 
with  their  equals,  and  never  went  into  the  village  with- 
out the  governess  or  a  footman.  But,  luckily,  Squire 
Brown  was  full  as  stiff-backed  as  his  neighbors,  and  so 
Avent  on  his  own  way  ;  and  Tom  and  his  younger 
brothers,  as  they  grew  up,  went  on  playing  with  the 
village  boys,  without  the  idea  of  equality  or  inequality 
(except  in  wrestling,  running,  and  climbing)  ever 
entering  their  heads,  as  it  doesn't  till  it's  put  there  by 
Jack  Nastys  or  fine  ladies'  maids. 

I  don't  mean  to  say  it  would  be  the  case  in  all  vil- 
lages, but  it  certainly  was  so  in  this  one  :  the  village 
boys  were  full  as  manly  and  honest,  and  certainly 
purer,  than  those  in  the  higher  rank ;  and  Tom  got 


SUNDRY   WARS  AND  ALLIANCE?.  89 

more  harm  from  his  equals  in  his  first  fortnight  at  a 
private  school,  where  he  went  when  he  was  nine  years 
old,  than  he  had  from  his  village  friends  from  the  day 
he  left  Chanty's  apron-strings. 

Great  was  the  grief  amongst  the  village  school-boys 
when  Tom  drove  off  with  the  squire,  one  August  morn- 
ing, to  meet  the  coach  on  his  way  to  school.  Each  of 
them  had  given  him  some  little  present  of  the  best  that 
he  had,  and  his  small  private  box  was  full  of  peg-tops, 
white  marbles  (called  "alley-taws"  in  the  Vale), 
screws,  birds'-eggs.  whip-cord,  jews-harps,  and  other 
miscellaneous  boys'  wealth.  Poor  Jacob  Doodle-calf, 
in  floods  of  tears,  had  pressed  upon  him  with  splutter- 
ing earnestness  his  lame  pet  hedgehog  (he  had  always 
some  poor  broken-down  beast  or  bird  by  him) ;  but 
this  Tom  had  been  obliged  to  refuse  by  the  Squire's 
order.  He  had  given  them  all  a  great  tea  under  the 
big  elm  in  their  playground,  for  which  Madam  Brown 
had  supplied  the  biggest  cake  ever  seen  in  our  village; 
and  Tom  was  really  as  sorry  to  leave  them  as  they  to 
lose  him,  but  his  sorrow  was  not  unmixed  with  the 
pride  and  excitement  of  making  a  new  step  in  life. 

And  this  feeling  carried  him  through  his  first  part- 
ing with  his  mother  better  than  could  have  been  ex- 
pected. Their  love  was  as  fair  and  whole  as  human 
love  can  be,  perfect  self-sacrifice  on  the  one  side,  meet- 
ing a  young  and  true  heart  on  the  other.  It  is  not 
within  the  scope  of  my  book,  however,  to  speak  of 
family  relations,  or  I  should  have  much  to  say  on  the 


90  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

subject   of    English    mothers, — ay,    and    of    English 
fathers,  and  sisters,  and  brothers  too. 

Neither  have  I  room  to  speak  of  our  private  schools  : 
what  I  have  to  say  is  about  public  schools,  those  much- 
abused  and  much-belauded  institutions  peculiar  to 
England.  So  we  must  hurry  through  Master  Tom's 
year  at  a  private  school  as  fast  as  we  can. 

It  was  a  fair  average  specimen,  kept  by  a  gentle- 
man, with  another  gentleman  as  second  master ;  but  it 
was  little  enough  of  the  real  work  they  did — merely 
coming  into  school  when  lessons  were  prepared  and  all 
ready  to  be  heard.  The  whole  discipline  of  the  school 
out  of  lesson  hours  was  in  the  hands  of  the  two  ushers, 
one  of  whom  was  always  with  the  boys  in  their  play- 
ground, in  the  school,  at  meals — in  fact,  at  all  times 
and  everywhere,  till  they  were  fairly  in  bed  at  night. 

Now  the  theory  of  private  schools  is  (or  was)  con- 
stant supervision  out  of  school ;  therein  differing  fun- 
damentally from  that  of  public  schools. 

It  may  be  right  or  wrong  ;  but  if  right,  this  super- 
vision surely  ought  to  be  the  especial  work  of  the  head- 
master, the  responsible  person.  The  object  of  all 
schools  is  not  to  ram  Latin  and  Greek  into  boys,  but 
to  make  them  good  English  boys,  good  future  citizens ; 
and  by  far  the  most  important  part  of  that  work  must 
be  done,  or  not  done,  out  of  school  hours.  To  leave 
it,  therefore,  in  the  hands  of  inferior  men,  is  just 
giving  up  the  highest  and  hardest  part  of  the  work  of 
education.  Were  I  a  private  schoolmaster,  I  should 


SUNDRY   WARS   AND  ALLIANCES.  91 

say,  let  who  will  hear  the  boys  their  lessons,  but  let 
me  live  with  them  when  they  are  at  play  and  rest. 

The  two  ushers  at  Tom's  first  school  were  not  gentle- 
men, and  very  poorly  educated,  and  were  only  driving 
their  poor  trade  of  usher  to  get  such  living  as  they 
could  out  of  it.  They  were  not  bad  men,  but  had  lit- 
tle heart  for  their  work,  and  of  course  were  bent  on 
making  it  as  easy  as  possible.  One  of  the  methods  by 
which  they  endeavored  to  accomplish  this,  wras  by  en- 
couraging tale-bearing,  which  had  become  a  frightfully 
common  vice  in  the  school  in  consequence,  and  had 
sapped  all  the  foundations  of  school  morality.  Another 
was,  by  favoring  grossly  the  biggest  boys,  who  alone 
could  have  given  them  much  trouble ;  whereby  those 
young  gentlemen  became  most  abominable  tyrants, 
oppressing  the  little  boys  in  all  the  small  mean  ways 
which  prevail  in  private  schools. 

Poor  little  Tom  was  made  dreadfully  unhappy  in  his 
first  week,  by  a  catastrophe  which  happened  to  his  first 
letter  home.  With  huge  labor  he  had,  on  the  very 
evening  of  his  arrival,  managed  to  fill  two  sides  of  a 
sheet  of  letter-paper  with  assurances  of  his  love  for 
dear  mamma,  his  happiness  at  school,  and  his  resolves 
to  do  all  she  would  wish.  This  missive,  with  the  help 
of  the  boy  who  sat  at  the  desk  next  him,  also  a  new 
arrival,  he  managed  to  fold  successfully ;  but  this 
done,  they  were  sadly  put  to  it  for  means  of  sealing. 
Envelopes  were  then  unknown,  they  had  no  wax,  and 
dared  not  disturb  the  stillness  of  the  evening  school- 


92  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

room  by  getting  up  and  going  to  ask  the  usher  for 
some.  At  length  Tom's  friend,  being  of  an  ingenious 
turn  of  mind,  suggested  sealing  with  ink,  and  the  letter 
was  accordingly  stuck  down  with  a  blob  of  ink,  and 
duly  handed  by  Tom,  on  his  way  to  bed,  to  the  house- 
keeper to  be  posted.  It  was  not  till  four  days  after- 
wards that  that  good  dame  sent  for  him,  and  produced 
the  precious  letter,  and  some  wax,  saying,  "  Oh,  Mas- 
ter Brown,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  before,  but  your  letter 
isn't  sealed."  Poor  Tom  took  the  wax  in  silence  and 
sealed  his  letter,  with  a  huge  lump  rising  in  his  throat 
during  the  process,  and  then  ran  away  to  a  quiet  cor- 
ner of  the  playground  and  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears. 
The  idea  of  his  mother  waiting  day  after  day  for  the 
letter  he  had  promised  her  at  once,  and  perhaps  think- 
ing him  forgetful  of  her,  when  he  had  done  all  in  his 
power  to  make  good  his  promise,  was  as  bitter  a  grief 
as  any  which  he  had  to  undergo  for  many  a  long  year. 
His  wrath  was  proportionately  violent  when  he  was 
aware  of  two  boys,  who  stopped  close  by  him,  and  one 
of  whom,  a  fat  gaby  of  a  fellow,  pointed  at  him  and 
called  him  "Young  mammy-sick  !"  Whereupon  Tom 
arose,  and  giving  vent  thus  to  his  grief  and  shame  and 
rage,  smote  his  derider  on  the  nose,  and  made  it  bleed 
— which  sent  that  young  worthy  howling  to  the  usher, 
who  reported  Tom  for  violent  and  unprovoked  assault 
and  battery.  Hitting  in  the  face  was  a  felony  pun- 
ishable with  flogging,  other  hitting  only  a  misdemeanor 
— a  distinction  not  altogether  clear  in  principle.  Tom 


SUNDRY   WARS  AND  ALLIANCES.  93 

however  escaped  the  penalty  by  pleading  "  primum 
tempus ;"  and  having  written  a  second  letter  to  his 
mother,  enclosing  some  forget-me-nots,  which  he  picked 
on  their  first  half-holiday  walk,  felt  quite  happy  again, 
and  began  to  enjoy  vastly  a  good  deal  of  his  new  life. 

These  half-holiday  walks  were  the  great  events  of 
the  week.  The  whole  fifty  boys  started  after  dinner 
with  one  of  the  ushers  for  Hazeldown,  which  was  dis- 
tant some  mile  or  so  from  the  school.  Hazeldown 
measured  some  three  miles  round,  and  in  the  neighbor- 
hood were  several  woods  full  of  all  manner  of  birds 
and  butterflies.  The  usher  walked  slowly  round  the 
down  with  such  boys  as  he  liked  to  accompany  him  ; 
the  rest  scattered  in  all  directions,  being  only  bound  to 
appear  again  when  the  usher  had  completed  his  round, 
and  accompany  him  home.  They  were  forbidden,  how- 
ever, to  go  anywhere  except  on  the  down  and  into  the 
woods,  the  village  being  especially  prohibited,  wrhere 
huge  bulls'-eyes  and  unctuous  toffy  might  be  procured 
in  exchange  for  coin  of  the  realm. 

Various  were  the  amusements  to  which  the  boys  then 
betook  themselves.  At  the  entrance  of  the  down  there 
was  a  steep  hillock,  like  the  barrows  of  Tom's  own 
downs.  This  mound  was  the  weekly  scene  of  terrific 
combats,  at  a  game  called  by  the  queer  name  of  "  mud- 
patties."  The  boys  who  played  divided  into  sides 
under  different  leaders,  and  one  side  occupied  the 
mound.  Then,  all  parties  having  provided  themselves 
with  many  sods  of  turf,  cut  with  their  bread-and- 


94  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

cheese  knives,  the  side  which  remained  at  the  bottom 
proceeded  to  assault  the  mound,  advancing  upon  all 
sides  under  cover  of  a  heavy  fire  of  turfs,  and  then 
struggling  for  victory  with  the  occupants,  which  was 
theirs  as  soon  as  they  could,  even  for  a  moment,  clear 
the  summit,  when  they  in  turn  became  the  besieged. 
Is  was  a  good  rough  dirty  game,  and  of  great  use  in 
counteracting  the  sneaking  tendencies  of  the  school. 
Then  others  of  the  boys  spread  over  the  downs,  look- 
ing for  the  holes  of  humble-bees  and  mice,  which  they 
dug  up  Avithout  mercy,  often  (I  regret  to  say)  killing 
and  skinning  the  unlucky  mice,  and  (I  do  not  regret 
to  say)  getting  well  stung  by  the  humble-bees.  Others 
went  after  butterflies  and  birds'-eggs  in  their  seasons; 
and  Tom  found  on  Hazeldown,  for  the  first  time,  the 
beautiful  little  blue  butterfly  with  golden  spots  on  his 
wings,  which  he  had  never  seen  on  his  own  downs, 
and  duff  out  his  first  sand-martin's  nest.  This  latter 

O 

achievement  resulted  in  a  flogging,  for  the  sand-mar- 
tins built  in  a  high  bank  close  to  the  village,  conse- 
quently out  of  bounds  ;  but  one  of  the  bolder  spirits 
of  the  school,  who  never  could  be  happy  unless  he  was 
doing  something  to  which  risk  attached,  easily  per- 
suaded Tom  to  break  bounds  and  visit  the  martin's 
bank.  From  w'hence  it  being  only  a  step  to  the  toffy- 
shop,  what  could  be  more  simple  than  to  go  on  there 
and  fill  their  pockets :  or  what  more  certain  than  that 
on  their  return,  a  distribution  of  treasure  having  been 
made,  the  usher  should  shortly  detect  the  forbidden 


SUNDRY   WARS  AND   ALLIANCES.  95 

smell  of  bulls'-eyes,  and,  a  search  ensuing,  discover 
the  state  of  the  breeches-pockets  of  Tom  and  his  ally  ? 
This  ally  of  Tom's  was  indeed  a  desperate  hero  in 
the  sight  of  the  boys,  and  feared  as  one  who  dealt  in 
magic,  or  something  approaching  thereto.  Which  rep- 
utation came  to  him  in  this  wise.  The  boys  went  to 
bed  at  eight,  and  of  course  consequently  lay  awake  in 
the  dark  for  an  hour  or  two,  telling  ghost-stories  by 
turns.  One  night  when  it  came  to  his  turn,  and  he 
had  dried  up  their  souls  by  his  story,  he  suddenly  de- 
clared that  he  would  make  a  fiery  hand  appear  on  the 
door ;  and  to  the  astonishment  and  terror  of  the  boys 
in  his  room,  a  hand,  or  something  like  it,  in  pale  light, 
did  then  and  there  appear.  The  fame  of  this  exploit 
having  spread  to  the  other  rooms,  and  being  discredited 
there,  the  young  necromancer  declared  that  the  same 
Avonder  would  appear  in  all  the  rooms  in  turn,  which  it 
accordingly  did  ;  and  the  whole  circumstances  having 
been  privately  reported  to  one  of  the  ushers  as  usual, 
that  functionary,  after  listening  about  at  the  doors  of 
the  rooms,  by  a  sudden  descent  caught  the  performer 
in  his  night-shirt,  with  a  box  of  phosphorus  in  his 
guilty  hand.  Lucifer-matches  and  all  the  present 
facilities  for  getting  acquainted  with  fire  were  then 
unknown ;  the  very  name  of  phosphorus  had  some- 
thing diabolic  in  it  to  the  boy  mind  ;  so  Tom's  ally, 
at  the  cost  of  a  sound  flogging,  earned  what  many 
older  folk  covet  much — the  very  decided  fear  of  most 
of  his  companions. 


96  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS. 

He  was  a  remarkable  boy,  and  by  no  means  a  bad 
one.  Torn  stuck  to  him  till  he  left,  and  got  into  many 
scrapes  by  so  doing.  But  he  was  the  great  opponent 
of  the  tale-bearing  habits  of  the  school,  and  the  open 
enemy  of  the  ushers ;  and  so  worthy  of  all  support. 

Tom  imbibed  a  fair  amount  of  Latin  and  Greek  at 
the  school,  but  somehow  on  the  whole  it  didn't  suit 
him,  or  he  it,  and  in  the  holidays  he  was  constantly 
working  the  Squire  to  send  him  at  once  to  a  public 
school.  Great  was  his  joy  then,  when,  in  the  middle 
of  his  third  half-year,  in  October,  183-,  a  fever  broke 
out  in  the  village,  and  the  master  having  himself 
slightly  sickened  of  it,  the  whole  of  the  boys  were  sent 
off  at  a  day's  notice  to  their  respective  homes. 

The  Squire  was  not  quite  so  pleased  as  Master  Tom 
to  see  that  young  gentleman's  brown  merry  face  appear 
at  home,  some  two  months  before  the  proper  time,  for 
Christmas  holidays  :  and  so  after  putting  on  his  think- 
ing cap,  he  retired  to  his  study  and  wrote  several  let- 
ters ;  the  result  of  which  was  that  one  morning  at  the 
breakfast-table,  about  a  fortnight  after  Tom's  return, 
he  addressed  his  wife  with — "  My  dear,  I  have  ar- 
ranged that  Tom  shall  go  to  Rugby  at  once,  for  the 
last  six  weeks  of  this  half-year,  instead  of  wasting 
them  riding  and  loitering  about  home.  It  is  very  kind 
of  the  Doctor  to  allow  it.  Will  you  see  that  his  things 
are  all  ready  by  Friday,  when  I  shall  take  him  up  to 
town,  and  send  him  down  the  next  day  by  himself." 

Mrs.   Brown  was  prepared  for  the  announcement, 


SUNDRY   WARS  AND  ALLIANCES.  97 

and  merely  suggested  a  doubt  whether  Tom  were  yet 
old  enough  to  travel  by  himself.  However,  finding 
both  father  and  son  against  her  on  this  point,  she  gave 
in  like  a  wise  woman,  and  proceeded  to  prepare  Tom's 
kit  for  his  launch  into  a  public  school. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  STAGE-COACH. 

"  Let  the  steam-pot  hiss  till  it's  hot, 
Give  me  the  speed  of  the  Tantivy  trot." 

Coaching  Song  by  E.  E.  E.  Warburton,  Esq. 

"  Now,  sir,  time  to  get  up,  if  you  please.  Tally-ho 
coach  for  Leicester  '11  be  round  in  half  an  hour,  and 
don't  wait  for  nobody."  So  spake  the  Boots  of  the 
Peacock  Inn,  Islington,  at  half-past  two  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  a  day  in  the  early  part  of  November, 
183—,  giving  Tom  at  the  same  time  a  shake  by  the 
shoulder,  and  then  putting  down  a  candle  and  carry- 
ing off  his  shoes  to  clean. 

Tom  and  his  father  had  arrived  in  town  from  Berk- 
shire the  day  before,  and  finding,  on  inquiry,  that  the 
Birmingham  coaches  which  ran  from  the  city  did  not 
pass  through  Rugby,  but  deposited  their  passengers  at 
Dunchurch,  a  village  three  miles  distant  on  the  main 
road — where  said  passengers  had  to  wait  for  the  Ox- 
ford and  Leicester  coach  in  the  evening,  or  to  take  a 
post-chaise — had  resolved  that  Tom  should  travel  down 
by  the  Tally-ho,  which  diverged  from  the  main  road 
and  passed  through  Rugby  itself.  And  as  the  Tally- 

98 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  99 

ho  was  an  early  coach,  they  had  driven  out  to  the  Pea- 
cock to  be  on  the  road. 

Tom  had  never  been  in  London,  and  would  have 
liked  to  have  stopped  at  the  Belle  Sauvage,  where  they 
had  been  put  down  by  the  Star,  just  at  dusk,  that  he 
might  have  gone  roving  about  those  endless,  mys- 
terious, gas-lit  streets,  which,  with  their  glare  and 
hum  and  moving  crowds,  excited  him  so  that  he 
couldn't  talk  even.  But  as  soon  as  he  found  that  the 
Peacock  arrangement  would  get  him  to  Rugby  by 
twelve  o'clock  in  the  day,  whereas  otherwise  he 
wouldn't  be  there  till  the  evening,  all  other  plans 
melted  away ;  his  one  absorbing  aim  being  to  become 
a  public  schoolboy  as  fast  as  possible,  and  six  hours 
sooner  or  later  seeming  to  him  of  the  most  alarming 
importance. 

Tom  and  his  father  had  alighted  at  the  Peacock  at 
about  seven  in  the  evening,  and  having  heard  with 
unfeigned  joy  the  paternal  order  at  the  bar,  of  steaks 
and  oyster  sauce  for  supper  in  half  an  hour,  and  seen 
his  father  seated  cozily  by  the  bright  fire  in  the  coffee- 
room  with  the  paper  in  his  hand — Tom  had  run  out  to 
see  about  him,  had  wondered  at  all  the  vehicles  passing 
and  repassing,  and  had  fraternized  with  the  boots  and 
ostler,  from  whom  he  ascertained  that  the  Tally-ho  was 
a  tip-top  goer,  ten  miles  an  hour  including  stoppages, 
and  so  punctual  that  all  the  road  set  their  clocks  by 
her. 

Then  being   summoned  to  supper  he   had  regaled 


100  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

himself  in  one  of  the  bright  little  boxes  of  the  Peacock 
coffee-room  on  the  beef-steak  and  unlimited  oyster- 
sauce  and  brown  stout  (tasted  then  for  the  first  time — 
a  day  to  be  marked  for  ever  by  Tom  with  a  white 
stone) ;  had  at  first  attended  to  the  excellent  advice 
which  his  father  was  bestowing  on  him  from  over  his 
glass  of  steaming  brandy  and  water,  and  then  begun 
nodding  from  the  united  effects  of  the  stout,  the  fire, 
and  the  lecture.  Till  the  Squire  observing  Tom's 
state,  and  remembering  that  it  was  nearly  nine  o'clock, 
and  that  the  Tally-ho  left  at  three,  sent  the  little  fellow 
off  to  the  chambermaid,  with  a  shake  of  the  hand 
(Tom  having  stipulated  in  the  morning  before  starting, 
that  kissing  should  noAV  cease  between  them,)  and  a 
few  parting  words. 

"And  now,  Tom,  my  boy,"  said  the  Squire,  "re- 
member you  are  going,  at  your  own  earnest  request,  to 
be  chucked  into  this  great  school,  like  a  young  bear 
with  all  your  troubles  before  you — earlier  than  we 
should  have  sent  you  perhaps.  If  schools  are  what 
they  were  in  my  time,  you'll  see  a  great  many  cruel 
blackguard  things  done,  and  hear  a  deal  of  foul  bad  talk. 
But  never  fear.  You  tell  the  truth,  and  keep  a  brave 
and  kind  heart,  and  never  listen  to  or  say  anything 
you  wouldn't  have  your  mother  and  sister  hear,  and 
you'll  never  feel  ashamed  to  come  home,  or  we  to  see 
you." 

The  allusion  to  his  mother  made  Tom  feel  rather 
chokey,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  have  hugged  his 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  101 

father  well,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  recent  stip- 
ulation. 

As  it  was,  he  only  squeezed  his  father's  hand,  and 
looked  bravely  up  and  said,  "I'll  try,  father." 

"  I  know  you  will,  my  boy.  Is  your  money  all 
safe  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  diving  into  one  pocket  to  make 
sure. 

"  And  your  keys  ?"  said  the  Squire. 

"  All  right,"  said  Tom,  diving  into  the  other  pocket. 

"  Well  then,  good  night.  God  bless  you  !  I'll  tell 
Boots  to  call  you,  and  be  up  to  see  you  off." 

Tom  was  carried  off  by  the  chambermaid  in  a  brown 
study,  from  which  he  was  roused  in  a  clean  little  attic 
by  that  buxom  person  calling  him  a  little  darling,  and 
kissing  him  as  she  left  the  room,  which  indignity  he 
was  too  much  surprised  to  resent.  And  still  thinking 
of  his  father's  last  words,  and  the  look  with  which  they 
were  spoken,  he  knelt  down  and  prayed,  that,  come 
what  might,  he  might  never  bring  shame  or  sorrow  on 
the  dear  folk  at  home. 

Indeed,  the  Squire's  last  words  deserved  to  have 
their  effect,  for  they  had  been  the  result  of  much  anx- 
ious thought.  All  the  way  up  to  London  he  had  pon- 
dered what  he  should  say  to  Tom  by  way  of  parting 
advice,  something  that  the  boy  could  keep  in  his  head 
ready  for  use.  By  way  of  assisting  meditation,  he  had 
even  gone  the  length  of  taking  out  his  flint  and  steel 
and  tinder,  and  hammering  away  for  a  quarter  of  an 


102  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS. 

hour  till  he  had  manufactured  a  light  for  a  long  Trichin- 
opoli  cheroot,  which  he  silently  puffed ;  to  the  no  small 
wonder  of  Coachee,  who  was  an  old  friend,  and  an 
institution  on  the  Bath  road  ;  and  who  always  expected 
a  talk  on  the  prospects  and  doings,  agricultural  and 
social,  of  the  whole  country  when  he  carried  the 
Squire. 

To  condense  the  Squire's  meditation,  it  was  some- 
what as  follows :  "  I  won't  tell  him  to  read  his  Bible 
and  love  and  serve  God  ;  if  he  don't  do  that  for  his 
mother's  sake  and  teaching,  he  won't  for  mine.  Shall 
I  go  into  the  sort  of  temptations  he'll  meet  with  ?  No, 
I  can't  do  that.  Never  do  for  an  old  fellow  to  go  into 
such  things  with  a  boy.  He  won't  understand  me.  Do 
him  more  harm  than  good,  ten  to  one.  Shall  I  tell 
him  to  mind  his  work,  and  say  he's  sent  to  school  to 
make  himself  a  good  scholar  ?  Well,  but  he  isn't  sent 
to  school  for  that — at  any  rate,  not  for  that  mainly.  I 
don't  care  a  straw  for  Greek  particles,  or  the  digamma, 
no  more  does  his  mother.  What  is  he  sent  to  school 
for  ?  Well,  partly  because  he  wanted  so  to  go.  If  he'll 
only  turn  out  a  brave,  helpful,  truth-telling  English- 
man, and  a  gentleman,  and  a  Christian,  that's  all  I 
want,"  thought  the  Squire;  and  upon  this  view  of  the 
case  framed  his  last  words  of  advice  to  Tom,  which 
were  well  enough  suited  for  his  purpose. 

For  they  were  Tom's  first  thoughts  as  he  tumbled 
out  of  bed  at  the  summons  of  Boots,  and  proceeded 
rapidly  to  wash  and  dress  himself.  At  ten  minutes  to 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  103 

three  he  was  down  in  the  coffee-room  in  his  stockings, 
carrying  his  hat-box,  coat,  and  comforter  in  his  hand  ; 
and  there  he  found  his  father  nursing  a  bright  fire  and 
a  cup  of  hot  coffee  and  a  hard  biscuit  on  the  table. 

"  Now  then,  Tom,  give  us  your  things  here,  and 
drink  this ;  there's  nothing  like  starting  warm,  old 
fellow." 

Tom  addressed  himself  to  the  coffee,  and  prattled 
away  while  he  worked  himself  into  his  shoes  and  his 
great-coat,  well  warmed  through ;  a  Petersham  coat 
with  velvet  collar,  made  tight,  after  the  abominable 
fashion  of  those  days.  And  just  as  he  is  swallowing 
his  last  mouthful,  Avinding  his  comforter  round  his 
throat,  and  tucking  the  ends  into  the  breast  of  his 
coat,  the  horn  sounds,  Boots  looks  in  and  says,  "  Tally- 
ho,  sir;"  and  they  hear  the  ring  and  the  rattle  of  the 
four  fast  trotters  and  the  town-made  drag,  as  it  dashes 
up  to  the  Peacock. 

"Anything  for  us,  Bob?"  says  the  burly  guard, 
dropping  down  from  behind,  and  slapping  himself 
across  the  chest. 

"  Young  genl'm'n  Rugby  ;  three  parcels,  Leicester  ; 
hamper  o'  game,  Rugby,"  answers  ostler. 

"  Tell  young  gent  to  look  alive,"  says  guard,  open- 
ing the  hind-boot  and  shooting  in  the  parcels  after 
examining  them  by  the  lamps.  "  Here,  shove  the 
portmanteau  up  a-top — I'll  fasten  him  presently.  Now 
then,  sir,  jump  up  behind." 

"  Good-bye,  father, — my  love   at   home."      A  last 


104  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

shake  of  the  hand.  Up  goes  Tom,  the  guard  catching 
his  hat-box  and  holding  on  with  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  he  claps  the  horn  to  his  mouth.  Toot,  toot, 
toot !  the  ostlers  let  go  their  heads,  the  four  bays 
plunge  at  the  collar,  and  away  goes  the  Tally-ho  into 
the  darkness,  forty-five  seconds  from  the  time  they 
pulled  up ;  Ostler,  Boots,  and  the  Squire  stand  look- 
ing after  them  under  the  Peacock  lamp. 

"  Sharp  Avork  !"  says  the  Squire,  and  goes  in  again 
to  his  bed,  the  coach  being  well  out  of  sight  and 
hearing. 

Tom  stands  up  on  the  coach  and  looks  back  at  his 
father's  figure  as  long  as  he  can  see  it,  and  then  the 
guard  having  disposed  of  his  luggage  comes  to  an 
anchor,  and  finishes  his  buttonings  and  other  prepara- 
tions for  facing  the  three  hours  before  dawn  ;  no  joke 
for  those  who  minded  cold,  on  a  fast  coach  in  Novem- 
ber, in  the  reign  of  his  late  majesty. 

I  sometimes  think  that  you  boys  of  this  generation 
are  a  deal  tenderer  fellows  than  we  used  to  be.  At  any 
rate,  you're  much  more  comfortable  travellers,  for  I 
see  every  one  of  you  with  his  rug  or  plaid,  and  other 
dodges  for  preserving  the  caloric,  and  most  of  you 
going  in  those  fuzzy,  dusty,  padded  first-class  car- 
riages. It  was  another  affair  altogether,  a  dark  ride 
on  the  top  of  the  Tally-ho,  I  can  tell  you,  in  a  tight 
Petersham  coat,  and  your  feet  dangling  six  inches  from 
the  floor.  Then  you  knew  what  cold  was,  and  what  it 
was  to  be  without  legs.-,  for  not  a  bit  of  feeling  had  you 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  105 

in  them  after  the  first  half-hour.  But  it  had  its  pleas- 
ures, the  old  dark  ride.  First  there  was  the  con- 
sciousness of  silent  endurance,  so  dear  to  every  Eng- 
lishman,— of  standing  out  against  something,  and  not 
giving  in.  Then  there  was  the  music  of  the  rattling 
harness,  and  the  ring  of  the  horses'  feet  on  the  hard 
road,  and  the  glare  of  the  two  bright  lamps  through 
the  steaming  hoar-frost,  over  the  leaders'  ears,  into  the 
darkness ;  and  the  cheery  toot  of  the  guard's  horn,  to 
warn  some  drowsy  pikeman  or  the  ostler  at  the  next 
change ;  and  the  looking  forward  to  daylight — and 
last,  but  not  least,  the  delight  of  returning  sensation 
in  your  toes. 

Then  the  break  of  dawn  and  the  sunrise  ;  where  can 
they  be  ever  seen  in  perfection  but  from  a  coach  roof? 
You  want  motion  and  change  and  music  to  see  them  in 
their  glory ;  not  the  music  of  singing-men  and  sing- 
ing-women, but  good  silent  music,  which  sets  itself  in 
your  own  head  the  accompaniment  of  work  and  get- 
ting over  the  ground. 

The  Tally-ho  is  past  St.  Alban's,  and  Tom  is  en- 
joying the  ride,  though  half-frozen.  The  guard,  who 
is  alone  with  him  on  the  back  of  the  coach,  is  silent, 
but  has  muffled  Tom's  feet  up  in  straw,  and  put  the 
end  of  an  oat-sack  over  his  knees.  The  darkness  has 
driven  him  inwards,  and  he  has  gone  over  his  little 
past  life,  and  thought  of  all  his  doings  and  promises, 
and  of  liis  mother  and  sister,  and  his  father's  last 
words  ;  and  has  made  fifty  good  resolutions,  and  means 


106  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

to  bear  himself  like  a  brave  Brown  as  he  is,  though  a 
young  one. 

Then  he  has  been  forwarded  into  the  mysterious  boy- 
future,  speculating  as  to  what  sort  of  a  place  Rugby  is, 
and  Avhat  they  do  there,  and  calling  up  all  the  stories 
of  public  schools  which  he  has  heard  from  big  boys 
in  the  holidays.  He  is  chock  full  of  hope  and  life, 
notwithstanding  the  cold,  and  kicks  his  heels  against 
the  back  board,  and  would  like  to  sing,  only  he 
doesn't  know  how  his  friend  the  silent  guard  mi^ht 

O  O 

take  it. 

And  now  the  dawn  breaks  at  the  end  of  the  fourth 
stage,  and  the  coach  pulls  up  at  a  little  road-side  inn 
with  huge  stables  behind.  There  is  a  bright  fire 
gleaming  through  the  red  curtains  of  the  bar-window, 
and  the  door  is  open.  The  coachman  catches  his  whip 
into  a  double  thong,  and  throws  it  to  the  ostler ;  the 
steam  of  the  horses  rises  straight  up  into  the  air.  He 
has  put  them  along  over  the  last  two  miles,  and  is  two 
minutes  before  his  time ;  he  rolls  down  from  the  box 
and  into  the  inn.  The  guard  rolls  off  behind.  "  Now, 
sir,"  says  he  to  Tom,  "you  just  jump  down,  and  I'll 
give  you  a  drop  of  something  to  keep  the  cold  out." 

Tom  finds  a  difficulty  in  jumping,  or  indeed  in  find- 
ing the  top  of  the  wheel  with  his  feet,  which  may  be 
in  the  next  world  for  all  he  feels ;  so  the  guard  picks 
him  off  the  coach-top,  and  sets  him  on  his  legs,  and 
they  stump  off  into  the  bar,  and  join  the  coachman 
and  other  outside  passengers. 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  107 

Here  a  fresh-looking  barmaid  serves  them  each  with 
a  glass  of  early  purl  as  they  stand  before  the  fire, 
coachman  and  guard  exchanging  business  remarks. 
The  purl  warms  the  cockles  of  Tom's  heart,  and  makes 
him  cough. 

"Rare  tackle,  that,  sir,  of  a  cold  morning,"  says  the 
coachman,  smiling.  "  Time's  up."  They  are  out  again 
and  up  ;  coachee  the  last,  gathering  the  reins  into  his 
hands  and  talking  to  Jem  the  ostler  about  the  mare's 
shoulder,  and  then  swinging  himself  up  on  to  the  box 
— the  horses  dashing  off  in  a  canter  before  he  falls  into 
his  seat.  Toot-toot-tootle-too  goes  the  horn,  and  away 
they  are  again,  five-and-thirty  miles  on  their  road 
(nearly  half  way  to  Rugby,  thinks  Tom),  and  the 
prospect  of  breakfast  at  the  end  of  the  stage. 

And  now  they  begin  to  see,  and  the  early  life  of  the 
country-side  comes  out ;  a  market  cart  or  two,  men  in 
smock-frocks  going  to  their  work  pipe  in  mouth,  a 
whiff  of  which  is  no  bad  smell  this  bright  morning. 
The  sun  gets  up,  and  the  mist  shines  like  a  silver 
gauze.  They  pass  the  hounds  jogging  along  to  a  dis- 
tant meet,  at  the  heels  of  the  huntsman's  hack,  whose 
face  is  about  the  color  of  the  tails  of  his  old  pink,  as 
he  exchanges  greetings  with  coachman  and  guard. 
Now  they  pull  up  at  a  lodge,  and  take  on  board  a 
well-muffled-up  sportsman,  with  his  gun-case  and  car- 
pet-bag. An  early  up-coach  meets  them,  and  the 
coachmen  gather  up  their  horses,  and  pass  one  another 
with  the  accustomed  lift  of  the  elbow,  each  team  doing 


108  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

eleven  miles  an  hour,  with  a  mile  to  spare  behind  if 
necessary.  And  here  comes  breakfast. 

"  Twenty  minutes  here,  gentlemen,"  says  the  coach- 
man as  they  pull  up  at  half-past  seven  at  the  inn  door. 

Have  we  not  endured  nobly  this  morning,  and  is 
not  this  a  worthy  reward  for  much  endurance  ?  There 
is  the  low  dark  wainscoted  room  hung  with  sporting 
prints  ;  the  hat-stand  (with  a  whip  or  two  standing  up 
in  it  belonging  to  bagmen  who  are  still  snug  in  bed) 
by  the  door;  the  blazing  fire,  with  the  quaint  old  glass 
over  the  mantelpiece,  in  which  is  stuck  a  large  card 
with  the  list  of  the  meets  for  the  week  of  the  county 
hounds.  The  table  covered  with  the  whitest  of  cloths 
and  of  china,  and  bearing  a  pigeon-pie,  ham,  round  of 
cold  boiled  beef  cut  from  a  mammoth  ox,  and  the  great 
loaf  of  household  bread  on  a  wooden  trencher.  And 
here  comes  in  the  stout  head  waiter,  puffing  under  a 
tray  of  hot  viands :  kidneys  and  a  steak,  transparent 
rashers  and  poached  eggs,  buttered  toast  and  muffins, 
coffee  and  tea,  all  smoking  hot.  The  table  can  never 
hold  it  all ;  the  cold  meats  are  removed  to  the  side- 
board ;  they  were  only  put  on  for  show  and  to  give  us 
an  appetite.  And  now  fall  on,  gentlemen  all.  It  is 
a  well-known  sporting-house,  and  the  breakfasts  are 
famous.  Two  or  three  men  in  pink,  on  their  way  to 
the  meet,  drop  in,  and  are  very  jovial  and  sharp-set, 
as  indeed  we  all  are. 

"  Tea  or  coffee,  sir  ?"  says  head  waiter,  coming  round 
to  Tom. 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  109 

"  Coffee,  please,"  says  Tom,  with  his  mouth  full  of 
muffin  and  kidney ;  coffee  is  a  treat  to  him,  tea  is  not. 

Our  coachman,  I  perceive,  who  breakfasts  with  us, 
is  a  cold-beef  man.  He  also  eschews  hot  potations,  and 
addicts  himself  to  a  tankard  of  ale,  which  is  brought 
him  by  the  barmaid.  Sportsman  looks  on  approvingly, 
and  orders  a  ditto  for  himself. 

Tom  has  eaten  kidney  and  pigeon-pie,  and  imbibed 
coffee,  till  his  little  skin  is  as  tight  as  a  drum  ;  and 
then  has  the  further  pleasure  of  paying  head  waiter  out 
of  his  own  purse,  in  a  dignified  manner,  and  walks  out 
before  the  inn  door  to  see  the  horses  put  to.  This  is 
done  leisurely  and  in  a  highly-finished  manner  by  the 
ostlers,  as  if  they  enjoyed  the  not  being  hurried. 
Coachman  comes  out  with  his  way-bill,  and  puffing  a 
fat  cigar  which  the  sportsman  has  given  him.  Guard 
emerges  from  the  tap,  where  he  prefers  breakfasting, 
licking  round  a  tough-looking  doubtful  cheroot,  which 
you  might  tie  round  your  finger,  and  three  whiffs  of 
which  would  knock  any  one  else  out  of  time. 

The  pinks  stand  about  the  inn  door  lighting  cigars 
and  waiting  to  see  us  start,  Avhile  their  hacks  are  led 
up  and  down  the  market-place  on  which  the  inn  looks. 
They  all  know  our  sportsman,  and  we  feel  a  reflected 
credit  when  we  see  him  chatting  and  laughing  with 
them. 

"Now,  sir,  please,"  says  the  coachman;  all  the  rest 
of  the  passengers  are  up;  the  guard  is  locking  the 
hind  boot. 


110  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"A  good  run  to  you!"  says  the  sportsman  to  the 
pinks,  and  is  by  the  coachman's  side  in  no  time. 

"Let  'em  go,  Dick  !"  The  ostlers  fly  back,  draw- 
ing off  the  cloths  from  their  glossy  loins,  and  away  we 
go  through  the  market-place  and  down  the  High 
Street,  looking  in  at  the  first-floor  windows,  and  seeing 
several  worthy  burgesses  shaving  thereat ;  while  all 
the  shop-boys  who  are  cleaning  the  windows,  and 
housemaids  who  are  doing  the  steps,  stop  and  look 
pleased  as  we  rattle  past,  as  if  we  were  a  part  of  their 
legitimate  morning's  amusement.  We  clear  the  town, 
and  are  well  out  between  the  hedgerows  again  as  the 
town  clock  strikes  eight. 

The  sun  shines  almost  warmly,  and  breakfast  has 
oiled  all  springs  and  loosened  all  tongues.  Tom  is 
encouraged  by  a  remark  or  two  of  the  guard's  between 
the  puffs  of  his  oily  cheroot,  and  besides  is  getting 
tired  of  not  talking ;  he  is  too  full  of  his  destination 
to  talk  about  anything  else ;  and  so  asks  the  guard  if 
he  knows  Rugby. 

"  Goes  through  it  every  day  of  my  life.  Twenty 
minutes  afore  twelve  down — ten  o'clock  up." 

"  What  sort  of  a  place  is  it,  please  ?"  says  Tom. 

Guard  looks  at  him  with  a  comical  expression. 
"  Werry  out-o'-the-way  place,  sir ;  no  paving  to  the 
streets  nor  no  lighting.  'Mazin'  big  horse  and  cattle 
fair  in  autumn — lasts  a  week — just  over  now.  Takes 
town  a  week  to  get  clean  after  it.  Fairish  hunting 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  Ill 

country.  But  slow  place,  sir,  slow  place :  off  the  main 
road,  you  see — only  three  coaches  a  day,  and  one  on 
'em  a  two-oss  van,  more  like  a  hearse  nor  a  coach — 
Regulator — comes  from  Oxford.  Young  genl'm'n  at 
school  calls  her  Pig  and  Whistle,  and  goes  up  to 
college  by  her  (six  miles  an  hour)  when  they  goes  to 
enter.  Belong  to  school,  sir?" 

••  Yes.  says  Tom.  not  unwilling  for  a  moment  that 
the  guard  should  think  him  an  old  boy.  But  then 
having  some  qualms  as  to  the  truth  of  the  assertion, 
and  seeing  that  if  he  were  to  assume  the  character  of 
an  old  boy  he  couldn't  go  on  asking  the  questions  he 
wanted,  added — "  that  is  to  say.  I'm  on  my  way  there. 
I'm  a  new  boy." 

The  guard  looked  as  if  he  knew  this  quite  as  well 
as  Tom. 

••  You're  werry  late,  sir."  says  the  guard ;  "only  six 
weeks  to-day  to  the  end  of  the  half."  Tom  assented. 
"We  takes  up  fine  loads  this  day  six  weeks,  and 
Monday  and  Tuesday  arter.  Hopes  we  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  carrying  you  back." 

Tom  said  he  hoped  they  Avould  :  but  he  thought 
within  himself  that  his  fate  would  probably  be  the  Pig 
and  Whistle. 

"  It  pays  uncommon,  cert'nly,"  continues  the  guard. 
"  Werry  free  with  their  cash  is  the  young  genl  m'n. 
But.  Lor'  bless  you.  we  gets  into  such  rows  all  long 
the  road,  what  wi'  their  pea-shooters,  and  long  whips, 
and  hollering,  and  upsetting  every  one  as  comes  by ; 


112  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

I'd  a  sight  sooner  carry  one  or  two  on  'em,  sir,  as  I 
may  be  a  carryin'  of  you  now,  than  a  coach-load." 

"What  do  they  do  with  the  pea-shooters?"  inquires 
Tom. 

"  Do  wi'  'em  !  why,  peppers  every  one's  faces  as  we 
comes  near,  'cept  the  young  gals,  and  breaks  windows 
wi'  them  too,  some  on  'em  shoots  so  hard.  Now  'twas 
just  here  last  June,  as  we  was  a  driving  up  the  first- 
day  boys,  they  was  mendin'  a  quarter-mile  of  road, 
and  there  was  a  lot  of  Irish  chaps,  reg'lar  roughs,  a 
breaking  stones.  As  we  comes  up,  'Now,  boys,'  says 
young  gent  on  the  box  (smart  young  fellow  and 
desper't  reckless),  'here's  fun!  Let  the  Pats  have  it 
about  the  ears.'  '  God's  sake,  sir  !'  says  Bob  (that's 
my  mate  the  coachman),  '  don't  go  for  to  shoot  at  'em, 
they'll  knock  us  off  the  coach.'  'Damme,  coachee,' 
says  young  my  lord,  '  you  ain't  afraid ;  hoora,  boys  ! 
let  'em  have  it.'  'Hoora!'  sings  out  the  others,  and 
fill  their  mouths  chock  full  of  peas  to  last  the  whole 
line.  Bob  seeing  as  'twas  to  come,  knocks  his  hat 
over  his  eyes,  hollers  to  his  'osses,  and  shakes  'em  up, 
and  away  we  goes  up  to  the  line  on  'em,  twenty  miles 
an  hour.  The  Pats  begin  to  hoora  too,  thinking  it 
was  a  runaway,  and  first  lot  on  'em  stands  grinnin' 
and  wavin'  their  old  hats  as  we  comes  abreast  on  'em ; 
and  then  you'd  ha'  laughed  to  see  how  took  aback  and 
choking  savage  they  looked  when  they  gets  the  peas 
a  stinging  all  over  'em.  But  bless  you,  the  laugh 
weren't  all  of  our  side,  sir,  by  a  long  way.  We  was 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  113 

going  so  fast,  and  they  was  so  took  aback,  that  they 
didn't  take  what  was  up  till  we  was  half-way  up  the 
line.  Then  'twas  "look  out  all.'  surely.  They  howls 
all  down  the  line  fit  to  frighten  you,  some  on  'eui 
runs  arter  us  and  tries  to  clamber  up  behind,  only  we 
hits  'em  over  the  fingers  and  pulls  their  hands  oft'; 
one  as  had  had  it  very  sharp  act'ly  runs  right  at  the 
leaders,  as  though  he'd  ketch  'em  by  the  heads,  only 
luck  ly  for  him  he  misses  his  tip,  and  comes  over  a 
heap  o  stones  first.  The  rest  picks  up  stones,  and 
gives  it  us  right  away  till  we  gets  out  o'  shot,  the 
young  gents  holding  out  werry  manful  with  the  pea- 
shooters and  such  stones  as  lodged  on  us,  and  a  pretty 
many  there  was  too.  Then  Bob  picks  hisself  up  again, 
and  looks  at  young  gent  on  box  werry  solemn.  Bob'd 
had  a  rum  un  in  the  ribs,  which  d  like  to  ha'  knocked 
him  off  the  box,  or  made  him  drop  the  reins.  Young 
gent  on  box  picks  hisself  up.  and  so  does  we  all,  and 
looks  round  to  count  damage.  Box's  head  cut  open 
and  his  hat  gone ;  'nother  young  gent's  hat  gone ; 
mine  knocked  in  at  the  side,  and  not  one  on  us  as 
wasn't  black  and  blue  somewheres  or  another ;  most  on 
'em  all  over.  Two-pound-ten  to  pay  for  damage  to 
paint,  which  they  subscribed  for  there  and  then,  and 
give  Bob  and  me  a  extra  half-sovereign  each ;  but  I 
wouldn't  go  down  that  line  again  not  for  twenty  half- 
sovereigns."  And  the  guard  shook  his  head  slowly, 
and  got  up  and  blew  a  clear  brisk  toot-toot. 

"  What  fun  !"  said  Tom,  who  could  scarcely  contain 

3 


114  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

his  pride  at  this  exploit  of  his  future  schoolfellows. 
He  longed  already  for  the  end  of  the  half,  that  he 
might  join  them. 

"  'Taint  such  good  fun  though,  sir,  for  the  folk  as 
meets  the  coach,  nor  for  we  who  has  to  go  back  with  it 
next  day.  Them  Irishers  last  summer  had  all  got 
stones  ready  for  us,  and  was  all  but  letting  drive,  and 
we'd  got  two  reverend  gents  aboard  too.  We  pulled 
up  at  the  beginning  of  the  line,  and  pacified  them,  and 
were  never  going  to  carry  no  more  pea-shooters,  unless 
they  promises  not  to  fire  Avhere  there's  a  line  of  Irish 
chaps  a  stone-breaking."  The  guard  stopped  and 
pulled  away  at  his  cheroot,  regarding  Tom  benign- 
antly  the  while. 

"  Oh,  don't  stop  !  tell  us  something  more  about  the 
pea-shooting." 

"Well,  there'd  like  to  have  been  a  pretty  piece  of 
work  over  it  at  Bicester,  a  while  back.  We  was  six 
mile  from  the  town,  when  we  meets  an  old  square-headed 
grey-haired  yeoman  chap,  a  jogging  along  quite  quiet. 
He  looks  up  at  the  coach,  and  just  then  a  pea  hits  him 
on  the  nose,  and  some  ketches  his  cob  behind  and 
makes  him  dance  up  on  his  hind  legs.  I  see'd  the  old 
boy's  face  flush  and  look  plaguy  awkward,  and  I 
thought  we  was  in  for  somethin'  nasty. 

"  He  turns  his  cob's  head,  and  rides  quietly  after  us 
just  out  of  shot.  How  that  ere  cob  did  step  !  we 
never  shook  him  off  not  a  dozen  yards  in  the  six  mile. 
At  first  the  young  gents  was  werry  lively  on  him  ;  but 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  115 

afore  we  got  in,  seeing  how  steady  the  old  chap  come 
on,  they  was  quite  quiet,  and  laid  their  heads  together 
what  they  should  do.  Some  was  for  fighting,  some  for 
axing  his  pardon.  He  rides  into  the  town  close  after 
us,  comes  up  when  we  stops,  and  says  the  two  as  shot 
at  him  must  come  before  a  magistrate  ;  and  a  great 
crowd  comes  round,  and  we  couldn't  get  the  'osses  to. 
But  the  young  uns,  they  all  stand  by  one  another,  and 
says  all  or  none  must  go,  and  as  how  they'd  fight  it 
out,  and  have  to  be  carried.  Just  as  'twas  gettin' 
serious,  and  the  old  boy  and  the  mob  was  goin'  to  pull 
'em  off  the  coach,  one  little  fellow  jumps  up  and  says, 
'  Here — I'll  stay, — I'm  only  going  three  miles  further. 
My  father's  name's  Davis ;  he's  known  about  here, 
and  I'll  go  before  the  magistrate  with  this  gentleman.' 
'  What,  be  thee  parson  Davis's  son  ?'  says  the  old  boy. 
'Yes,'  says  the  young  un.  'Well,  I  be  mortal  sorry 
to  meet  thee  in  such  company,  but  for  thy  father's  sake 
and  thine  (for  thee  bi'st  a  brave  young  chap)  I'll  say 
no  more  about  it.'  Didn't  the  boys  cheer  him,  and  the 
mob  cheered  the  young  chap — and  then  one  of  the 
biggest  gets  down,  and  begs  his  pardon  werry  gentle- 
manly for  all  the  rest,  saying  as  they  all  had  been 
plaguy  vexed  from  the  first,  but  didn't  like  to  ax  his 
pardon  till  then,  'cause  they  felt  they  hadn't  ought 
to  shirk  the  consequences  of  their  joke.  And  then 
they  all  got  down  and  shook  hands  with  the  old  boy, 
and  asked  him  to  all  parts  of  the  country,  to  their 
homes  ;  and  we  drives  off  twenty  minutes  behind  time, 


116  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

with  cheering  and  hollering  as  if  we  was  county  mem- 
bers. But,  Lor'  bless  you,  sir,"  says  the  guard, 
smacking  his  hand  doAvn  on  his  knee  and  looking  full 
into  Tom's  face,  "  ten  minutes  arter  they  was  all  as 
bad  as  ever." 

Tom  showed  such  undisguised  and  open-mouthed 
interest  in  his  narrations,  that  the  old  guard  rubbed 
up  his  memory,  and  launched  out  into  a  graphic  his- 
tory of  all  the  performances  of  the  boys  on  the  road 
for  the  last  twenty  years.  Off  the  road  he  couldn't 
go ;  the  exploit  must  have  been  connected  with  horses 
or  vehicles  to  hang  in  the  old  fellow's  head.  Tom 
tried  him  off  his  own  ground  once  or  twice,  but  found 
he  knew  nothing  beyond,  and  so  let  him  have  his 
head,  and  the  rest  of  the  road  bowled  easily  away  ;  for 
old  Blow-hard  (as  the  boys  called  him)  was  a  dry  old 
file,  with  much  kindness  and  humor,  and  a  capital  spin- 
ner of  a  yarn  when  he  had  broken  the  neck  of  his 
day's  work  and  got  plenty  of  ale  under  his  belt. 

What  struck  Tom's  youthful  imagination  most  was 
the  desperate  and  lawless  character  of  most  of  the 
stories.  Was  the  guard  hoaxing  him  ?  He  couldn't 
help  hoping  that  they  were  true.  It's  very  odd  how 
almost  all  English  boys  love  danger ;  you  can  get  ten 
to  join  a  game,  or  climb  a  tree,  or  swim  a  stream, 
when  there's  a  chance  of  breaking  their  limbs  or  get- 
ting drowned,  for  one  who'll  stay  on  level  ground,  or 
in  his  depth,  or  play  quoits  or  bowls. 

The  guard  had  just  finished  an  account  of  a  desper- 


THE  STAGE-COACH.  117 

ate  fight  which  had  happened  at  one  of  the  fairs  be- 
tween the  drovers  and  the  farmers  with  their  whips, 
and  the  boys  with  cricket-bats  and  wickets,  which  arose 
out  of  a  playful  but  objectionable  practice  of  the  boys 
going  round  to  the  public  houses  and  taking  the  linch- 
pins out  of  the  wheels  of  the  gigs,  and  was  moralizing 
upon  the  way  in  which  the  Doctor,  "  a  terrible  stern 
man  he'd  heard  tell,"  had  come  down  upon  several  of 
the  performers,  "sending  three  on  'em  off  next  morn- 
ing, each  in  a  po-chay  with  a  parish  constable,"  when 
they  turned  a  corner  and  neared  the  milestone,  the 
third  from  Rugby.  By  the  stone  two  boys  stood,  their 
jackets  buttoned  tight,  waiting  for  the  coach. 

"Look  here,  sir,"  says  the  guard,  after  giving  a 
sharp  toot-toot,  "  there's  two  on  'em  ;  out  and  out  run- 
ners they  be.  They  come  out  about  twice  or  three 
times  a  week,  and  spirts  a  mile  alongside  of  us." 

And  as  they  came  up,  sure  enough,  away  went  two 
boys  along  the  footpath,  keeping  up  with  the  horses ; 
the  first  a  light  clean-made  fellow  going  on  springs, 
the  other  stout  and  round-shouldered,  laboring  in  his 
pace,  but  going  as  dogged  as  a  bull-terrier. 

Old  Blow-hard  looked  on  admiringly.  "  See  how 
beautiful  that  there  un  holds  hisself  together,  and  goes 
from  his  hips,  sir,"  said  he;  "he's  a  'mazin'  fine  run- 
ner. Now,  many  coachmen  as  drives  a  first-rate 
team'd  put  it  on  and  try  and  pass  'em.  But  Bob,  sir, 
bless  you,  he's  tender-hearted ;  he'd  sooner  pull  in  a 
bit  if  he  see'd  'em  a  gettin'  beat.  I  do  b'lieve  too  as 


118  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

that  there  un'd  sooner  break   his  heart  than   let  us  go 
by  him  afore  next  milestone." 

At  the  second  milestone  the  boys  pulled  up  short 
and  waved  their  hats  to  the  guard,  who  had  his  watch 
out  and  shouted  "4.56,"  thereby  indicating  that  the 
mile  had  been  done  in  four  seconds  under  the  five 
minutes.  They  passed  several  more  parties  of  boys, 
all  of  them  objects  of  the  deepest  interest  to  Tom,  and 
came  in  sight  of  the  town  at  ten  minutes  before  twelve. 
Tom  fetched  a  long  breath,  and  thought  he  had  never 
spent  a  pleasanter  day.  Before  he  went  to  bed  he  had 
quite  settled  that  it  must  be  the  greatest  day  he  should 
ever  spend,  and  didn't  alter  his  opinion  for  many  a 
long  year — if  he  has  yet. 


HIGH  STREET,  RUGBY 


CHAPTER  V. 
RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL. 

" Foot  and  eye  opposed 

In  dubious  strife." 

SCOTT. 

"  AND  so  here's  Rugby,  sir,  at  last,  and  you'll  be  in 
plenty  of  time  for  dinner  at  the  School-house,  as  I 
tell'd  you,"  said  the  old  guard,  pulling  his  horn  out  of 
its  case,  and  tootle-tooing  away ;  while  the  coachman 
shook  up  his  horses,  and  carried  them  along  the  side 
of  the  school  close,  round  Dead-man's  Corner,  past  the 
school  gates,  and  down  the  High  Street  to  the  Spread 
Eagle ;  the  wheelers  in  a  spanking  trot,  and  leaders 
cantering,  in  a  style  which  would  not  have  disgraced 
"  Cherry  Bob,"  "  ramping,  stamping,  tearing,  swear- 
ing Billy  Harwood,"  or  any  other  of  the  old  coaching 
heroes. 

Tom's  heart  beat  quick  as  he  passed  the  great  school 
field  or  close,  with  its  noble  elms,  in  which  several 
games  at  football  were  going  on,  and  tried  to  take  in 
at  once  the  long  line  of  grey  buildings,  beginning  with 
the  chapel,  and  ending  with  the  School-house,  the  res- 
idence of  the  head-master,  where  the  great  flag  was 
lazily  waving  from  the  highest  round  tower.  And  he 

119 


120  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

began  already  to  be  proud  of  being  a  Rugby  boy,  as 
he  passed  the  school-gates,  with  the  oriel-window 
above,  and  saw  the  boys  standing  there,  looking  as  if 
the  town  belonged  to  them,  and  nodding  in  a  familiar 
manner  to  the  coachman,  as  if  any  one  of  them  would 
be  quite  equal  to  getting  on  the  box  and  working  the 
team  down  street  as  well  as  he. 

One  of  the  young  heroes,  however,  ran  out  from  the 
rest,  and  scrambled  up  behind  ;  where,  having  righted 
himself  and  nodded  to  the  guard  with  "  How  do,  Jem  ?" 
he  turned  short  round  to  Tom,  and.  after  looking  him 
over  for  a  minute,  began — 

"  I  say,  you  fellow,  is  your  name  Brown  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  in  considerable  astonishment ; 
glad  however  to  have  lighted  on  some  one  already  who 
seemed  to  know  him. 

"Ah,  I  thought  so;  you  know  my  old  aunt,  Miss 
East ;  she  lives  somewhere  down  your  way  in  Berk- 
shire. She  wrote  to  me  that  you  were  coming  to-day, 
and  asked  me  to  give  you  a  lift." 

Tom  was  somewhat  inclined  to  resent  the  patroniz- 
ing air  of  his  new  friend — a  boy  of  just  about  his  own 
height  and  age,  but  gifted  with  the  most  transcendent 
coolness  and  assurance,  which  Tom  felt  to  be  aggravat- 
ing and  hard  to  bear,  but  couldn't  for  the  life  of  him 
help  admiring  and  envying — especially  when  young 
my  lord  begins  hectoring  two  or  three  long  loafing  fel- 
lows, half-porter,  half-stableman,  with  a  strong  touch 
of  the  blackguard  and  in  the  end  arranges  with  one 


RUGBY   AND  FOOTBALL.  121 

of  them,  nicknamed  Cooey,  to  carry  Tom's  luggage  up 
to  the  School-house  for  sixpence. 

"  And  heark'ee  Cooey,  it  must  be  up  in  ten  minutes, 
or  no  more  jobs  from  me.  Come  along,  Brown."  And 
away  swaggers  the  young  potentate,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  Tom  at  his  side. 

"All  right,  sir,"  says  Cooey,  touching  his  hat,  with 
a  leer  and  a  wink  at  his  companions. 

"  Hullo  though,"  says  East,  pulling  up,  and  taking 
another  look  at  Tom,  "  this'll  never  do — haven't  you 
got  a  hat  ? — we  never  wear  caps  here.  Only  the  louts 
wear  caps.  Bless  you,  if  you  were  to  go  into  the  quad- 
rangle with  that  thing  on,  I don't  know  what'd 

happen."  The  very  idea  was  quite  beyond  young 
Master  East,  and  he  looked  unutterable  things. 

Tom  thought  his  cap  a  very  knowing  affair,  but  con- 
fessed that  he  had  a  hat  in  his  hat-box  ;  which  was 
accordingly  at  once  extracted  from  the  hind  boot,  and 
Tom  equipped  in  his  go-to-meeting  roof,  as  his  new 
friend  called  it.  But  this  didn't  quite  suit  his  fastid- 
ious taste  in  another  minute,  being  too  shiny ;  so,  as 
they  walk  up  the  town,  they  dive  into  Nixon's  the 
hatter's,  and  Tom  is  arrayed,  to  his  utter  astonish- 
ment, and  without  paying  for  it,  in  a  regulation  cat- 
skin  at  seven-and-sixpence ;  Nixon  undertaking  to 
send  the  best  hat  up  to  the  matron's  room,  School- 
house,  in  half  an  hour. 

"  You  can  send  in  a  note  for  a  tile  on  Monday,  and 
make  it  all  right,  you  know,"  said  Mentor;  "we're 


122  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

allowed  two  seven-and-sixers  a  half,  besides  what  we 
brinf  from   home." 

o 

Tom  by  this  time  began  to  be  conscious  of  his  new 
social  position  and  dignities,  and  to  luxuriate  in  the 
realized  ambition  of  being  a  public-school  boy  at  last, 
with  a  vested  right  of  spoiling  two  severi-and-sixers  in 
half  a  year. 

"You  see,"  said  his  friend,  as  they  strolled  up  to- 
wards the  school  gates,  in  explanation  of  his  conduct — 
"  a  great  deal  depends  on  how  a  fellow  cuts  up  at  first. 
If  he's  got  nothing  odd  about  him,  and  answers 
straightforward  and  holds  his  head  up,  he  gets  on. 
Now  you'll  do  very  well  as  to  rig,  all  but  that  cap. 
You  see  I'm  doing  the  handsome  thing  by  you,  because 
my  father  knows  yours ;  besides,  I  want  to  please  the 
old  lady.  She  gave  me  a  half-a-sov.  this  half,  and  per- 
haps'll  double  it  next,  if  I  keep  in  her  good  books." 

There's  nothing  for  candor  like  a  lower-school  boy ; 
and  East  was  a  genuine  specimen — frank,  hearty,  and 
good-natured,  well  satisfied  with  himself  and  his  posi- 
tion, and  chock  full  of  life  and  spirits,  and  all  the 
Rugby  prejudices  and  traditions  which  he  had  been 
able  to  get  together,  in  the  long  course  of  one  half 
year,  during  which  he  had  been  at  the  School-house. 

And  Tom,  notwithstanding  his  bumptiousness,  felt 
friends  with  him  at  once,  and  began  sucking  in  all  his 
ways  and  prejudices,  as  fast  as  he  could  understand 
them. 

East  was  great  in  the  character   of  cicerone;    he 


POOR  OF  HEAD-MASTER'S    HOUSE,   RUGBY 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  123 

carried  Torn  through  the  great  gates,  where  were  only 
two  or  three  boys.  These  satisfied  themselves  with  the 
stock  questions, — "You  fellow,  what's  your  name? 
Where  do  you  come  from  ?  How  old  are  you  ?  Where 
do  you  board?  and,  What  form  are  you  in?" — and  so 
they  passed  on  through  the  quadrangle  and  a  small 
courtyard,  upon  which  looked  down  a  lot  of  little  win- 
dows (belonging,  as  his  guide  informed  him,  to  some 
of  the  School-house  studies),  into  the  matron's  room, 
where  East  introduced  Tom  to  that  dignitary ;  made 
him  give  up  the  key  of  his  trunk  that  the  matron 
might  unpack  his  linen,  and  told  the  story  of  the  hat 
and  of  his  own  presence  of  mind :  upon  the  relation 
whereof  the  matron  laughingly  scolded  him,  for  the 
coolest  new  boy  in  the  house ;  and  East,  indignant  at 
the  accusation  of  newness,  marched  Tom  off  into  the 
quadrangle,  and  began  showing  him  the  schools,  and 
examining  him  as  to  his  literary  attainments  ;  the  re- 
sult of  which  was  a  prophecy  that  they  would  be  in 
the  same  form,  and  could  do  their  lessons  together. 

"  And  now  come  in  and  see  my  study ;  we  shall 
have  just  time  before  dinner ;  and  afterwards,  before 
calling  over,  we'll  do  the  close." 

Tom  followed  his  guide  through  the  School-house 
hall,  which  opens  into  the  quadrangle.  It  is  a  great 
room  thirty  feet  long  and  eighteen  high,  or  there- 
abouts, with  two  great  tables  running  the  whole 
length,  and  two  large  fireplaces  at  the  side,  with  blaz- 
ing fires  in  them,  at  one  of  which  some  dozen  boys 


124  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

were  standing  and  lounging,  some  of  whom  shouted  to 
East  to  stop ;  but  he  shot  through  with  his  convoy, 
and  landed  him  in  the  long  dark  passages,  with  a  large 
fire  at  the  end  of  each,  upon  which  the  studies  opened. 
Into  one  of  these,  in  the  bottom  passage,  East  bolted 
with  our  hero,  slamming  and  bolting  the  door  behind 
them,  in  case  of  pursuit  from  the  hall,  and  Tom  was 
for  the  first  time  in  a  Rugby  boy's  citadel. 

He  hadn't  been  prepared  for  separate  studies,  and 
was  not  a  little  astonished  and  delighted  with  the 
place  in  question 

It  wasn't  very  large  certainly,  being  about  six  feet 
long  by  four  broad.  It  couldn't  be  called  light,  as 
there  were  bars  and  a  grating  to  the  window;  which 
little  precautions  were  necessary  in  the  studies  on  the 
ground  floor  looking  out  into  the  close,  to  prevent  the 
exit  of  small  boys  after  locking-up,  and  the  entrance 
of  contraband  articles.  But  it  Avas  uncommonly  com- 
fortable to  look  at,  Tom  thought.  The  space  under 
the  window  at  the  further  end  was  occupied  by  a  square 
table  covered  with  a  reasonably  clean  and  whole  red 
and  blue  check  tablecloth  ;  a  hard-seated  sofa  covered 
with  red  stun0  occupied  one  side,  running  up  to  the  end, 
and  making  a  seat  for  one,  or,  by  sitting  close,  for  two, 
at  the  table  ;  and  a  good  stout  wooden  chair  aiforded  a 
seat  to  another  boy,  so  that  three  could  sit  and  work 
together.  The  walls  were  wainscoted  half-way  up,  the 
wainscot  being  covered  with  green  baize,  the  remain- 
der with  a  bright-patterned  paper,  on  which  hung  three 


KUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  125 

or  four  prints,  of  dogs'  heads,  Grimaldi  winning  the 
Aylesbury  steeplechase,  Amy  Robsart,  the  reigning 
Waverley  beauty  of  the  day,  and  Tom  Crib  in  a  pos- 
ture of  defence,  which  did  no  credit  to  the  science  of 
that  hero,  if  truly  represented.  Over  the  door  were  a 
row  of  hat-pegs,  and  on  each  side  bookcases  with  cup- 
boards at  the  bottom  ;  shelves  and  cupboards  being 
filled  indiscriminately  with  school-books,  a  cup  or  two, 
a  mousetrap,  and  brass  candlesticks,  leather  straps,  a 
fustian  bag,  and  some  curious-looking  articles,  which 
puzzled  Tom  not  a  little,  until  his  friend  explained 
that  they  were  climbing  irons,  and  showed  their  use. 
A  cricket-bat  and  small  fishing-rod  stood  up  in  one 
corner. 

This  was  the  residence  of  East  and  another  boy  in 
the  same  form,  and  had  more  interest  for  Tom  than 
Windsor  Castle,  or  any  other  residence  in  the  British 
Isles.  For  was  he  not  about  to  become  the  joint  owner 
of  a  similar  home,  the  first  place  which  he  could  call 
his  own  ?  One's  own  !  What  a  charm  there  is  in  the 
words  !  How  long  it  takes  boy  and  man  to  find  out 
their  worth  !  how  fast  most  of  us  hold  on  to  them  ! 
faster  and  more  jealously  the  nearer  we  are  to  that 
general  home  into  which  we  can  take  nothing,  but 
must  go  naked  as  we  came  into  the  world.  When 
shall  Ave  learn  that  he  who  multiplieth  possessions 
multiplieth  troubles,  and  that  the  one  single  use  of 
things  which  we  call  our  own  is  that  they  may  be  his 
who  hath  need  of  them  ? 


126  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"And  shall  I  have  a  study  like  this  too?"  said 
Tom. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  you'll  be  chummed  with  some  fel- 
low on  Monday,  and  you  can  sit  here  till  then." 

"  What  nice  places  !" 

"  They're  well  enough,"  answered  East  patron- 
izingly, "  only  uncommon  cold  at  nights  sometimes. 
Gower — that's  my  chum — and  I  make  a  fire  with 
paper  on  the  floor  after  supper  generally,  only  that 
makes  it  so  smoky." 

"But  there's  a  big  fire  out  in  the  passage,"  said 
Tom. 

"  Precious  little  good  we  get  out  of  that  though," 
said  East ;  "  Jones  the  praepostor  has  the  study  at  the 
fire  end,  and  he  has  rigged  up  an  iron  rod  and  green 
baize  curtain  across  the  passage,  which  he  draws  at 
night,  and  sits  there  with  his  door  open,  so  he  gets  all 
the  fire,  and  hears  if  we  come  out  of  our  studies  after 
eight,  or  make  a  noise.  However,  he's  taken  to  sit- 
ting in  the  fifth-form  room  lately,  so  AVC  do  get  a  bit 
of  fire  now  sometimes  ;  only  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out 
that  he  don't  catch  you  behind  his  curtain  when  he 
comes  down — that's  all." 

A  quarter-past  one  now  struck,  and  the  bell  began 
tolling  for  dinner,  so  they  went  into  the  hall  and  took 
their  places,  Tom  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  second 
table,  next  to  the  praepostor  (Avho  sat  at  the  end  to 
keep  order  there),  and  East  a  few  paces  higher.  And 
now  Tom  for  the  first  time  saw  his  future  schoolfel- 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  127 

lows  in  a  body.  In  they  came,  some  hot  and  ruddy 
from  football  or  long  walks,  some  pale  and  chilly  from 
hard  reading  in  their  studies,  some  from  loitering  over 
the  fire  at  the  pastrycook's,  dainty  mortals,  bringing 
with  them  pickles  and  sauce-bottles  to  help  them  with 
their  dinners.  And  a  great  big-bearded  man,  whom 
Tom  took  for  a  master,  began  calling  over  the  names, 
while  the  great  joints  were  being  rapidly  carved  on  a 
third  table  in  the  corner  by  the  old  verger  and  the 
housekeeper.  Tom's  turn  came  last,  and  meanwhile 
he  was  all  eyes,  looking  first  with  awe  at  the  great 
man  who  sat  close  to  him,  and  was  helped  first,  and 
who  read  a  hard-looking  book  all  the  time  he  was  eat- 
ing ;  and  when  he  got  up  and  walked  off  to  the  fire, 
at  the  small  boys  round  him,  some  of  whom  were  read- 
ing, and  the  rest  talking  in  whispers  to  one  another, 
or  stealing  one  another's  bread,  or  shooting  pellets,  or 
digging  their  forks  through  the  tablecloth.  However, 
notwithstanding  his  curiosity,  he  managed  to  make  a 
capital  dinner  by  the  time  the  big  man  called  "  Stand 
up  !"  and  said  grace. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  and  Tom  had  been 
questioned  by  such  of  his  neighbors  as  were  curious  as 
to  his  birth,  parentage,  education,  and  other  like  mat- 
ters, East,  who  evidently  enjoyed  his  new  dignity  of 
patron  and  Mentor,  proposed  having  a  look  at  the 
close,  which  Tom,  athirst  for  knowledge,  gladly  as- 
sented to,  and  they  went  out  through  the  quadrangle 
and  past  the  big  fives'-court,  into  the  great  playground. 


1-28  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  That's  the  chapel,  you  see,"  said  East,  "  and  there 
just  behind  it  is  the  place  for  fights ;  you  see  it's  most 
out  of  the  way  of  the  masters,  who  all  live  on  the 
other  side  and  don't  come  by  here  after  first  lesson  or 
callings-over.  That's  when  the  fights  come  off.  And 
all  this  part  where  we  are  is  the  little  side-ground, 
right  up  to  the  trees,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the 
trees  is  the  big  side-ground,  where  the  great  matches 
are  played.  And  there's  the  island  in  the  furthest 
corner ;  you'll  know  that  well  enough  next  half,  when 
there's  island  fagging.  I  say,  it's  horrid  cold,  let's 
have  a  run  across,"  and  away  went  East,  Tom  close 
behind  him.  East  was  evidently  putting  his  best  foot 
foremost,  and  Tom,  who  was  mighty  proud  of  his  run- 
ning, and  not  a  little  anxious  to  show  his  friend  that 
although  a  new  boy  he  was  no  milksop,  laid  himself 
down  to  the  work  in  his  very  best  style.  Right  across 
the  close  they  went,  each  doing  all  he  knew,  and  there 
wasn't  a  yard  between  them  when  they  pulled  up  at 
the  island  moat. 

"I  say,"  said  East,  as  soon  as  he  got  his  wind, 
looking  with  much  increased  respect  at  Tom,  u  you 
ain't  a  bad  scud,  not  by  no  means.  Well,  I'm  as 
warm  as  a  toast  new." 

"  But  why  do  you  wear  white  trousers  in  Novem- 
ber ?"  said  Tom.  He  had  been  struck  by  this  pecu- 
liarity in  the  costume  of  almost  all  the  School-house 
boys. 

"  Why,  bless  us,  don't  you   know  ? — No,  I  forgot. 


KUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  129 

Why,  to-day's  the  School-house  match.  Our  house 
plays  the  whole  of  the  School  at  football.  And  we  all 
wear  white  trousers,  to  show  'em  we  don't  care  for 
hacks.  You're  in  luck  to  come  to-day.  You  just  will 
see  a  match ;  and  Brooke's  going  to  let  me  play  in 
quarters.  That's  more  than  he'll  do  for  any  other 
lower-school  boy,  except  James,  and  he's  fourteen." 

"Who's  Brooke?" 

"  Why  that  big  fellow  who  called  over  at  dinner,  to 
be  sure.  He's  cock  of  the  school,  and  head  of  the 
School-house  side,  and  the  best  kick  and  charger  in 
Rugby." 

"  Oh,  but  do  show  me  where  they  play  ?  And  tell 
me  about  it.  I  love  football  so,  and  have  played  all 
my  life.  Won't  Brooke  let  me  play  ?" 

"  Not  he,"  said  East,  with  some  indignation  ;  "  why, 
you  don't  know  the  rules — you'll  be  a  month  learning 
them.  And  then  it's  no  joke  playing-up  in  a  match,  I 
can  tell  you.  Quite  another  thing  from  your  private 
school  games.  Why,  there's  been  two  collar-bones 
broken  this  half,  and  a  dozen  fellows  lamed.  And 
last  year  a  fellow  had  his  leg  broken." 

Tom  listened  with  the  profoundest  respect  to  this 
chapter  of  accidents,  and  followed  East  across  the 
level  ground  till  they  came  to  a  sort  of  gigantic  gal- 
lows of  two  poles  eighteen  feet  high,  fixed  upright  in 
the  ground  some  fourteen  feet  apart,  with  a  cross  bar 
running  from  one  to  the  other  at  the  height  of  ten  feet 
or  thereabouts. 


130  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  goals,"  said  East,  "and  you  see 
the  other  across  there,  right  opposite,  under  the  Doc- 
tor's Avail.  Well,  the  match  is  for  the  best  of  three 
goals ;  whichever  side  kicks  two  goals  wins :  and  it 
won't  do,  you  see,  just  to  kick  the  ball  through  these 
posts,  'it  must  go  over  the  cross  bar ;  any  height'll  do, 
so  long  as  it's  between  the  posts.  You'll  have  to  stay 
in  goal  to  touch  the  ball  when  it  rolls  behind  the  posts, 
because  if  the  other  side  touch  it  they  have  a  try  at 
goal.  Then  we  fellows  in  quarters,  we  play  just  about 
in  front  of  goal  here,  and  have  to  turn  the  ball  and 
kick  it  back  before  the  big  fellows  on  the  other  side 
can  follow  it  up.  And  in  front  of  us  all  the  big  fel- 
lows play,  and  that's  where  the  scrummages  are 
mostly." 

Tom's  respect  increased  as  he  struggled  to  make  out 
his  friend's  technicalities,  and  the  other  set  to  work  to 
explain  the  mysteries  of  "off  your  side,"  "drop- 
kicks,"  "punts,"  "places,"  and  the  other  intricacies 
of  the  great  science  of  football. 

"But  how  do  you  keep  the  ball  between  the  goals  ?" 
said  he.  "  I  can't  see  why  it  mightn't  go  right  down 
to  the  chapel." 

"Why,  that's  out  of  play,"  answered  East.  "You 
see  this  gravel  walk  running  down  all  along  this  side 
of  the  playing-ground,  and  the  line  of  elms  opposite  on 
the  other  ?  Well,  they're  the  bounds.  As  soon  as  the 
ball  gets  past  them,  it's  in  touch,  and  out  of  play.  And 
then  whoever  first  touches  it,  has  to  knock  it  straight 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  131 

out  amongst  the  players-up,  who  make  two  lines  with 
a  space  between  them,  every  fellow  going  on  his  own 
side.  Ain't  there  just  fine  scrummages  then  !  and  the 
three  trees  you  see  there  which  come  out  into  the  play, 
that's  a  tremendous  place  when  the  ball  hangs  there, 
for  you  get  thrown  against  the  trees,  and  that's  worse 
than  any  hack." 

Tom  wondered  within  himself  as  they  strolled  back 
again  towards  the  fives'  court,  whether  the  matches 
were  really  such  break-neck  affairs  as  East  repre- 
sented, and  whether,  if  they  were,  he  should  ever  get 
to  like  them  and  play-up  well. 

He  hadn't  long  to  wonder,  however,  for  next  minute 
East  cried  out,  "  Hurra  !  here's  the  punt-about, — come 
along  and  try  your  hand  at  a  kick."  The  punt-about 
is  the  practice  ball,  which  is  just  brought  out  and 
kicked  about  anyhow  from  one  boy  to  another  before 
callings-over  and  dinner,  and  at  other  odd  times.  They 
joined  the  boys  who  had  brought  it  out,  all  small 
School-house  fellows,  friends  of  East ;  and  Tom  had 
the  pleasure  of  trying  his  skill,  and  performed  very 
creditably,  after  first  driving  his  foot  three  inches  into 
the  ground,  and  then  nearly  kicking  his  leg  into  the 
air,  in  vigorous  efforts  to  accomplish  a  drop-kick  after 
the  manner  of  East. 

Presently  more  boys  and  bigger  came  out,  and  boys 
from  other  houses  on  their  way  to  calling-over,  and 
more  balls  were  sent  for.  The  crowd  thickened  as 
three  o'clock  approached ;  and  when  the  hour  struck, 


132  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

one  hundred  and  fifty  boys  were  Lard  at  work.  Then 
the  balls  were  held,  the  master  of  the  week  came  down 
in  cap  and  gown  to  calling-over,  and  the  whole  school 
of  three  hundred  boys  swept  into  the  big  school  to 
answer  to  their  names. 

"I  may  come  in,  mayn't  I?"  said  Tom,  catching 
East  by  the  arm  and  longing  to  feel  one  of  them. 

"  Yes,  come  along,  nobody'll  say  anything.  You 
won't  be  so  eager  to  get  into  calling-over  after  a 
month,"  replied  his  friend;  and  they  marched  into  the 
big  school  together,  and  up  to  the  further  end,  where 
that  illustrious  form,  the  lower  fourth,  which  had  the 
honor  of  East's  patronage  for  the  time  being,  stood. 

The  master  mounted  into  the  high  desk  by  the  door, 
and  one  of  the  praepostors  of  the  week  stood  by  him 
on  the  steps,  the  other  three  marching  up  and  down 
the  middle  of  the  school  with  their  canes,  calling  out 
"  Silence,  silence !"  The  sixth  form  stood  close  by 
the  door  on  the  left,  some  thirty  in  number,  mostly 
great  big  grown  men,  as  Tom  thought,  surveying  them 
from  a  distance  with  awe.  The  fifth  form  behind  them, 
twice  their  number  and  not  quite  so  big.  These  on  the 
left ;  and  on  the  right  the  lower  fifth,  shell,  and  all  the 
junior  forms  in  order;  while  up  the  middle  marched 
the  three  praepostors. 

Then  the  praepostor  who  stands  by  the  master  calls 
out  the  names,  beginning  with  the  sixth  form,  and  as 
he  calls,  each  boy  answers  "  Here  "  to  his  name,  and 
walks  out.  .  Some  of  the  sixth  stop  at  the  door  to  turn 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  133 

the  whole  string  of  boys  into  the  close ;  it  is  a  great 
match  day,  and  every  boy  in  the  school,  will-he,  nill- 
he,  must  be  there.  The  rest  of  the  sixth  go  forwards 
into  the  close,  to  see  that  no  one  escapes  by  any  of  the 
side  gates. 

To-day,  however,  being  the  School-house  match, 
none  of  the  School-house  praepostors  stay  by  the  door 
to  watch  for  truants  of  their  side ;  there  is  carte 
blanche  to  the  School-house  fags  to  go  where  they 
like:  "They  trust  to  our  honor,"  as  East  proudly  in- 
forms Tom ;  "  they  know  very  well  that  no  School- 
house  boy  would  cut  the  match.  If  he  did,  we'd  very 
soon  cut  him,  I  can  tell  you." 

The  master  of  the  week  being  short-sighted,  and  the 
praepostors  of  the  week  small  and  not  well  up  to  their 
work,  the  lower  school  boys  employ  the  ten  minutes 
which  elapse  before  their  names  are  called,  in  pelting 
one  another  vigorously  with  acorns,  which  fly  about  in 
all  directions.  The  small  praepostors  dash  in  every 
now  and  then,  and  generally  chastise  some  quiet,  timid 
boy  who  is  equally  afraid  of  acorns  and  canes,  while 
the  principal  performers  get  dexterously  out  of  the 
way  ;  and  so  calling-over  rolls  on  somehow,  much  like 
the  big  world,  punishments  lighting  on  wrong  shoul- 
ders, and  matters  going  generally  in  a  queer,  cross- 
grained  way,  but  the  end  coming  somehow,  which  is 
after  all  the  great  point.  And  now  the  master  of  the 
week  has  finished,  and  locked  up  the  big  school ;  and 
the  praepostors  of  the  week  come  out,  sweeping  the 


134  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

last  remnant  of  the  school  fags — who  had  been  loafing 
about  the  corners  by  the  fives'  court,  in  hopes  of  a 
chance  of  bolting — before  them  into  the  close. 

"  Hold  the  punt-about !"  "  To  the  goals  !"  are  the 
cries,  and  all  stray  balls  are  impounded  by  the  author- 
ities ;  and  the  whole  mass  of  boys  moves  up  towards 
the  two  goals,  dividing  as  they  go  into  three  bodies. 
That  little  band  on  the  left,  consisting  of  from  fifteen 
to  twenty  boys,  Tom  amongst  them,  who  are  making 
for  the  goal  under  the  School-house  wall,  are  the 
School-house  boys  who  are  not  to  play-up,  and  have  to 
stay  in  goal.  The  larger  body,  moving  to  the  island 
goal,  are  the  school-boys  in  a  like  predicament.  The 
great  mass  in  the  middle  are  the  players-up,  both  sides 
mingled  together;  they  are  hanging  their  jackets,  and, 
all  who  mean  real  work,  their  hats,  waistcoats,  neck- 
handkerchiefs,  and  braces,  on  the  railings  round  the 
small  trees ;  and  there  they  go  by  twos  and  threes  up 
to  their  respective  grounds.  There  is  none  of  the 
color  and  tastiness  of  get-up,  you  will  perceive,  which 
lends  such  a  life  to  the  present  game  at  Rugby,  mak- 
ing the  dullest  and  worst-fought  match  a  pretty  sight. 
Now  each  house  has  its  own  uniform  of  cap  and  jersey, 
of  some  lively  color :  but  at  the  time  we  are  speaking 
of,  plush  caps  have  not  yet  come  in  or  uniforms  of  any 
sort,  except  the  School-house  white  trousers,  which  are 
abominably  cold  to-day  :  let  us  get  to  work,  bare- 
headed and  girded  with  our  plain  leather  straps — but 
we  mean  business,  gentlemen. 


THE  FOOT-BALL  GROUND,  RUGBY 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  135 

And  now  that  the  two  sides  have  fairly  sundered, 
and  each  occupies  its  own  ground,  and  we  get  a  good 
look  at  them,  what  absurdity  is  this  ?  You  don't  mean 
to  say  that  those  fifty  or  sixty  boys  in  white  trousers, 
many  of  them  quite  small,  are  going  to  play  that  huge 
mass  opposite  ?  Indeed  I  do,  gentlemen  ;  they're  going 
to  try  at  any  rate,  and  won't  make  such  a  bad  fight  of 
it  either,  mark  my  word  ;  for  hasn't  old  Brooke  won 
the  toss,  with  his  lucky  halfpenny,  and  got  choice  of 
goals  and  kick-off?  The  new  ball  you  may  see  lie 
there  quite  by  itself,  in  the  middle,  pointing  towards 
the  school  or  island  goal  ;  in  another  minute  it  will  be 
well  on  its  way  there.  Use  that  minute  in  remarking 
how  the  School-house  side  is  drilled.  You  will  see  in 
the  first  place,  that  the  sixth-form  boy,  who  has  the 
charge  of  goal,  has  spread  his  force  (the  goal-keepers) 
so  as  to  occupy  the  whole  space  behind  the  goal-posts, 
at  distances  of  about  five  yards  apart ;  a  safe  and  well- 
kept  goal  is  the  foundation  of  all  good  play.  Old 
Brooke  is  talking  to  the  captain  of  quarters ;  and  now 
he  moves  away  ;  see  how  that  youngster  spreads  his 
men  (the  light  brigade)  carefully  over  the  ground,  half- 
way between  their  own  goal  and  the  body  of  their  own 
players-up  (the  heavy  brigade).  These  again  play  in 
several  bodies ;  there  is  young  Brooke  and  the  bull- 
dogs— mark  them  well — they  are  the  "  fighting  bri- 
gade," the  "die-hards,"  larking  about  at  leap-frog  to 
keep  themselves  warm,  and  playing  tricks  on  one  an- 
other. And  on  each  side  of  old  Brooke,  who  is  now 


136  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

standing  in  the  middle  of  the  ground  and  just  going 
to  kick  off,  you  see  a  separate  wing  of  players-up,  each 
with  a  boy  of  acknowledged  prowess  to  look  to — here 
Warner,  and  there  Hedge ;  but  over  all  is  old  Brooke, 
absolute  as  he  of  Russia,  but  wisely  and  bravely 
ruling  over  willing  and  worshipping  subjects,  a  true 
football  king.  His  face  is  earnest  and  careful  as  he 
glances  a  last  time  over  his  array,  but  full  of  pluck 
and  hope,  the  sort  of  look  I  hope  to  see  in  my  gen- 
eral when  I  go  out  to  fight. 

The  School  side  is  not  organized  in  the  same  way. 
The  goal-keepers  are  all  in  lumps,  anyhow  and  nohow  ; 
you  can't  distinguish  between  the  players-up  and  the 
boys  in  quarters,  and  there  is  divided  leadership ;  but 
with  such  odds  in  strength  and  weight  it  must  take 
more  than  that  to  hinder  them  from  winning  ;  and  so 
their  leaders  seem  to  think,  for  they  let  the  players-up 
manage  themselves. 

But  now  look,  there  is  a  slight  move  forward  of  the 
School-house  wings:  a  shout  of  "Are  you  ready?" 
and  loud  affirmative  reply.  Old  Brooke  takes  half-a- 
dozen  quick  steps,  and  away  goes  the  ball  spinning 
towards  the  School  goal ;  seventy  yards  before  it 
touches  ground,  and  at  no  point  above  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet  high,  a  model  kick-off;  and  the  School-house 
cheer  and  rush  on  ;  the  ball  is  returned,  and  they  meet 
it  and  drive  it  back  amongst  the  masses  of  the  School 
already  in  motion.  Then  the  two  sides  close,  and  you 
can  see  nothing  for  minutes  but  a  swaying  crowd  of 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  137 

boys,  at  one  point  violently  agitated.  That  is  where 
the  ball  is,  and  there  are  the  keen  players  to  be  met, 
and  the  glory  and  the  hard  knocks  to  be  got :  you  hear 
the  dull  thud  thud  of  the  ball,  and  the  shouts  of 
"  Off  your  side,"  "  Down  with  him,"  "  Put  him  over," 
''Bravo!"  This  is  what  we  call  a  scrummage,  gen- 
tlemen, and  the  first  scrummage  in  a  School-house 
match  was  no  joke  in  the  consulship  of  Plancus. 

But  see!  it  has  broken;  the  ball  is  driven  out  on 
the  School- house  side,  and  a  rush  for  the  School  car- 
ries it  past  the  School-house  players-up.  "  Look  out 
in  quarters,"  Brooke's  and  twenty  other  voices  ring 
out ;  no  need  to  call  though,  the  School-house  captain 
of  quarters  has  caught  it  on  the  bound,  dodges  the  fore- 
most schoolboys,  who  are  heading  the  rush,  and  sends 
it  back  with  a  good  drop-kick  well  into  the  enemy's 
country.  And  then  follows  rush  upon  rush,  and 
scrummage  upon  scrummage,  the  ball  now  driven 
through  into  the  School-house  quarters,  and  now  into 
the  School  goal ;  for  the  School-house  have  not  lost 
the  advantage  which  the  kick-off  and  a  slight  wind 
gave  them  at  the  outset,  and  are  slightly  "penning" 
their  adversaries.  You  say  you  don't  see  much  in  it 
all ;  nothing  but  a  struggling  mass  of  boys,  and  a 
leather  ball,  which  seems  to  excite  them  all  to  great 
fury,  as  a  red  rag  does  a  bull.  My  dear  sir,  a  battle 
would  look  much  the  same  to  you,  except  that  the  boys 
would  be  men,  and  the  balls  iron  ;  but  a  battle  would 
be  Avorth  your  looking  at  for  all  that,  and  so  is  a  foot- 


138  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

ball  match.  You  can't  be  expected  to  appreciate  the 
delicate  strokes  of  play,  the  turns  by  which  a  game  is 
lost  and  won, — it  takes  an  old  player  to  do  that, — but 
the  broad  philosophy  of  football  you  can  understand  if 
you  will.  Come  along  with  me  a  little  nearer,  and  let 
us  consider  it  together. 

The  ball  has  just  fallen  again  where  the  two  sides 
are  thickest,  and  they  close  rapidly  around  it  in  a 
scrummage ;  it  must  be  driven  through  now  by  force 
or  skill,  till  it  flies  out  on  one  side  or  the  other.  Look 
how  differently  the  boys  face  it !  Here  come  two  of 
the  bull-dogs,  bursting  through  the  outsiders ;  in  they 
go,  straight  to  the  heart  of  the  scrummage,  bent  on 
driving  that  ball  out  on  the  opposite  side.  That  is 
what  they  mean  to  do.  My  sons,  my  sons  !  you  are 
too  hot ;  you  have  gone  past  the  ball,  and  must  strug- 
gle now  right  through  the  scrummage,  and  get  round 
and  back  again  to  your  own  side,  before  you  can  be  of 
any  further  use.  Here  comes  your  Brooke ;  he  goes 
in  as  straight  as  you,  but  keeps  his  head,  and  backs 
and  bends,  holding  himself  still  behind  the  ball,  and 
driving  it  furiously  when  he  gets  the  chance.  Take  a 
leaf  out  of  his  book,  you  young  chargers.  Here  come 
Speedicut,  and  Flashman  the  School-house  bully,  with 
shouts  and  great  action.  Won't  you  two  come  up  to 
young  Brooke,  after  locking  up,  by  the  School-house 
fire,  with  "  Old  fellow,  wasn't  that  just  a  splendid 
scrummage  by  the  three  trees  !"  But  he  knows  you, 
and  so  do  we.  You  don't  really  want  to  drive  that 


RUGBY  AND  FOOTBALL.  139 

ball  through  that  scrummage,  chancing  all  hurt  for  the 
glory  of  the  School-house — but  to  make  us  think  that's 
what  you  want — a  vastly  different  thing  ;  and  fellows 
of  your  kidney  will  never  go  through  more  than  the 
skirts  of  a  scrummage,  where  it's  all  push  and  no  kick- 
ing. We  respect  boys  who  keep  out  of  it,  and  don't 
sham  going  in ;  but  you — we  had  rather  not  say  what 
we  think  of  you. 

Then  the  boys  who  are  bending  and  watching  on  the 
outside,  mark  them — they  are  most  useful  players,  the 
dodgers  ;  who  seize  on  the  ball  the  moment  it  rolls  out 
from  amongst  the  chargers,  and  away  with  it  across  to 
the  opposite  goal ;  they  seldom  go  into  the  scrummage, 
but  must  have  more  coolness  than  the  chargers  :  as 
endless  as  are  boys'  characters,  so  are  their  ways  of 
facing  or  not  facing  a  scrummage  at  football. 

Three-quarters  of  an  hour  are  gone ;  first  winds  are 
failing,  and  weight  and  numbers  beginning  to  tell. 
Yard  by  yard  the  School-house  have  been  driven 
back,  contesting  every  inch  of  ground.  The  bull-dogs 
are  the  color  of  mother  earth  from  shoulder  to  ankle, 
except  young  Brooke,  who  has  a  marvellous  knack  of 
keeping  his  legs.  The  School-house  are  being  penned 
in  their  turn,  and  now  the  ball  is  behind  their  goal, 
under  the  Doctor's  wall.  The  Doctor  and  some  of  his 
family  are  there  looking  on,  and  seem  as  anxious  as 
any  boy  for  the  success  of  the  School-house.  We  get 
a  minute's  breathing  time  before  old  Brooke  kicks  out, 
and  he  gives  the  word  to  play  strongly  for  touch,  by 


140  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  three  trees.  Away  goes  the  ball,  and  the  bull- 
dogs after  it,  and  in  another  minute  there  is  a  shout 
of  "  In  touch,"  "  Our  ball."  Now's  your  time,  old 
Brooke,  while  your  men  are  still  fresh.  He  stands 
with  the  ball  in  his  hand,  while  the  two  sides  form  in 
deep  lines  opposite  one  another :  he  must  strike  it 
straight  out  between  them.  The  lines  are  thickest 
close  to  him,  but  young  Brooke  and  two  or  three  of 
his  men  are  shifting  up  further,  Avhere  the  opposite 
line  is  weak.  Old  Brooke  strikes  it  out  straight  and 
strong,  and  it  falls  opposite  his  brother.  Hurra ! 
that  rush  has  taken  it  right  through  the  School  line, 
and  away  past  the  three  trees,  far  into  their  quarters, 
and  young  Brooke  and  the  bull-dogs  are  close  upon  it. 
The  School  leaders  rush  back  shouting  "  Look  out  in 
goal,"  and  strain  every  nerve  to  catch  him,  but  they 
are  after  the  fleetest  foot  in  Rugby.  There  they  go 
straight  for  the  School  goal-posts,  quarters  scattering 
before  them.  One  after  another  the  bull-dogs  go  down, 
but  young  Brooke  holds  on.  "  He  is  down."  No  !  a 
long  stagger,  and  the  danger  is  past ;  that  was  the 
shock  of  Crew,  the  most  dangerous  of  dodgers.  And 
now  he  is  close  to  the  School  goal,  the  ball  not  three 
yards  before  him.  There  is  a  hurried  rush  of  the 
School  fags  to  the  spot,  but  no  one  throws  himself  on 
the  ball,  the  only  chance,  and  young  Brooke  has 
touched  it  right  under  the  School  goal-posts. 

The  School  leaders  come  up  furious,  and  administer 
toco  to  the  wretched  fags  nearest  at  hand  :   they  may 


RUGBY   AND  FOOTBALL.  141 

well  be  angry,  for  it  is  all  Lombard-street  to  a  china 
orange  that  the  School-house  kick  a  goal  with  the  ball 
touched  in  such  a  good  place.  Old  Brooke  of  course 
Avill  kick  it  out,  but  who  shall  catch  and  place  it  ? 
Call  Crab  Jones.  Here  he  comes,  sauntering  along 
with  a  straw  in  his  mouth,  the  queerest,  coolest  fish  in 
Rugby;  if  he  were  tumbled  into  the  moon  this  minute, 
he  would  just  pick  himself  up  without  taking  his  hands 
out  of  his  pockets  or  turning  a  hair.  But  it  is  a  mo- 
ment when  the  boldest  charger's  heart  beats  quick. 
Old  Brooke  stands  with  the  ball  under  his  arm  motion- 
ing the  School  back  ;  he  will  not  kick  out  till  they 
are  all  in  goal,  behind  the  posts ;  they  are  all  edging 
forwards,  inch  by  inch,  to  get  nearer  for  the  rush  at 
Crab  Jones,  who  stands  there  in  front  of  old  Brooke  to 
catch  the  ball.  If  they  can  reach  and  destroy  him 
before  he  catches,  the  danger  is  over ;  and  with  one 
and  the  same  rush  they  will  carry  it  right  away  to  the 
School-house  goal.  Fond  hope  !  it  is  kicked  out  and 
caught  beautifully.  Crab  strikes  his  heel  into  the 
ground,  to  mark  the  spot  where  the  ball  was  caught, 
beyond  which  the  School  line  may  not  advance ;  but 
there  they  stand,  five  deep,  ready  to  rush  the  moment 
the  ball  touches  the  ground.  Take  plenty  of  room  ! 
don't  give  the  rush  a  chance  of  reaching  you  !  place 
it  true  and  steady  !  Trust  Crab  Jones — he  has  made 
a  small  hole  with  his  heel  for  the  ball  to  lie  on,  by 
which  he  is  resting  on  one  knee,  with  his  eye  on  old 
Brooke.  "  Now  !•"  Crab  places  the  ball  at  the  word, 


142  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

old  Brooke  kicks,  and  it  rises  slowly  and  truly  as  the 
School  rush  forward. 

Then  a  moment's  pause,  while  both  sides  look  up  at 
the  spinning  ball.  There  it  flies,  straight  between  the 
two  posts,  some  five  feet  above  the  cross-bar,  an  un- 
questioned goal ;  and  a  shout  of  real  genuine  joy  rings 
out  from  the  School-house  players-up,  and  a  faint  echo 
of  it  comes  over  the  close  from  the  goal-keepers  under 
the  Doctor's  wall.  A  goal  in  the  first  hour — such  a 
thing  hasn't  been  done  in  the  School-house  match  this 
five  years. 

"Over!"  is  the  cry:  the  two  sides  change  goals, 
and  the  School-house  goal-keepers  come  threading 
their  way  across  through  the  masses  of  the  School ; 
the  most  openly  triumphant  of  them,  amongst  whom 
is  Tom,  a  School-house  boy  of  two  hours'  standing, 
getting  their  ears  boxed  in  the  transit.  Tom  indeed  is 
excited  beyond  measure,  and  it  is  all  the  sixth-form 
boy,  kindest  and  safest  of  goal-keepers,  has  been  able 
to  do,  to  keep  him  from  rushing  out  whenever  the  ball 
has  been  near  their  goal.  So  he  holds  him  by  his  side, 
and  instructs  him  in  the  science  of  touching. 

At  this  moment  Griffith,  the  itinerant  vendor  of 
oranges  from  Hill  Morton,  enters  the  close  with  his 
heavy  baskets ;  there  is  a  rush  of  small  boys  upon  the 
little  pale-faced  man,  the  two  sides  mingling  together, 
subdued  by  the  great  Goddess  Thirst,  like  the  English 
and  French  by  the  streams  in  the  Pyrenees.  The  lead- 
ers are  past  oranges  and  apples,  but  some  of  them  visit 


RUGBY   AND  FOOTBALL.  143 

their  coats,  and  apply  innocent  looking  ginger  beer 
bottles  to  their  mouths.  It  is  no  ginger-beer  though, 
I  fear,  and  will  do  you  no  good.  One  short  mad  rush, 
and  then  a  stitch  in  the  side,  and  no  more  honest  play ; 
that's  what  comes  of  those  bottles. 

But  now  Griffith's  baskets  are  empty,  the  ball  is 
placed  again  midway,  and  the  School  are  going  to  kick 
off.  Their  leaders  have  sent  their  lumber  into  goal, 
and  rated  the  rest  soundly,  and  one  hundred  and 
twenty  picked  players-up  are  there,  bent  on  retrieving 
the  game.  They  are  to  keep  the  ball  in  front  of  the 
School-house  goal,  and  then  to  drive  it  in  by  sheer 
strength  and  weight.  They  mean  heavy  play  and  no 
mistake,  and  so  old  Brooke  sees;  and  places  Crab 
Jones  in  quarters  just  before  the  goal ;  with  four  or 
five  picked  players,  who  are  to  keep  the  ball  away  to 
the  sides,  where  a  try  at  goal,  if  obtained,  will  be  less 
dangerous  than  in  front.  He  himself,  and  Warner  and 
Hedge,  who  have  saved  themselves  till  now,  will  lead 
the  charges. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?"  "  Yes."  And  away  comes  the 
ball  kicked  high  in  the  air,  to  give  the  School  time  to 
rush  on  and  catch  it  as  it  falls.  And  here  they  are 
amongst  us.  Meet  them  like  Englishmen,  you  School- 
house  boys,  and  charge  them  home.  Now  is  the  time 
to  show  what  mettle  is  in  you — and  there  shall  be  a 
warm  seat  by  the  hall  fire,  and  honor  and  lots  of  bot- 
tled beer  to-night,  for  him  who  does  his  duty  in  the 
next  half-hour.  And  they  are  well  met.  Again  and 


144  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

again  the  cloud  of  their  players-up  gathers  before  our 
goal,  and  comes  threatening  on,  and  Warner  or  Hedge, 
with  young  Brooke  and  the  relics  of  the  bull-dogs, 
break  through  and  carry  the  ball  back ;  and  old 
Brooke  ranges  the  field  like  Job's  Avar-horse ;  the 
thickest  scrummage  parts  asunder  before  his  rush,  like 
the  -waves  before  a  clipper's  bows ;  his  cheery  voice 
rings  over  the  field,  and  his  eye  is  everywhere.  And 
if  these  miss  the  ball,  and  it  rolls  dangerously  in  front 
of  our  goal,  Crab  Jones  and  his  men  have  seized  it 
and  sent  it  away  towards  the  sides  with  the  unerring 
drop-kick.  This  is  worth  living  for  ;  the  whole  sum 
of  school-boy  existence  gathered  up  into  one  straining, 
struggling  half-hour,  a  half-hour  worth  a  year  of  com- 
mon life. 

The  quarter  to  five  has  struck,  and  the  play  slackens 
for  a  minute  before  goal ;  but  there  is  Crew,  the  artful 
dodger,  driving  the  ball  in  behind  our  goal,  on  the 
island  side,  where  our  quarters  are  weakest.  Is  there 
no  one  to  meet  him  ?  Yes  !  look  at  little  East !  the 
ball  is  just  at  equal  distances  between  the  two,  and 
they  rush  together,  the  young  man  of  seventeen  and 
the  boy  of  twelve,  and  kick  it  at  the  same  moment. 
Crew  passes  on  without  a  stagger ;  East  is  hurled  for- 
ward by  the  shock,  and  plunges  on  his  shoulders,  as  if 
he  would  bury  himself  in  the  ground ;  but  the  ball 
rises  straight  into  the  air,  and  falls  behind  Crew's 
back,  while  the  "  bravos  "  of  the  School-house  attest 
the  pluckiest  charge  of  all  that  hard-fought  day. 


RUGBY   AND  FOOTBALL.  145 

Warner  picks  East  up  lame  and  half  stunned,  and  he 
hobbles  back  into  goal  conscious  of  having  played  the 
man. 

And  now  the  last  minutes  are  come,  and  the  School 
gather  for  their  last  rush  every  boy  of  the  hundred  and 
twenty  who  has  a  run  left  in  him.  Reckless  of  the 
defence  of  their  own  goal,  on  they  come  across  the 
level  big-side  ground,  the  ball  well  down  amongst 
them,  straight  for  our  goal,  like  the  column  of  the  Old 
Guard  up  the  slope  at  Waterloo.  All  former  charges 
have  been  child's  play  to  this.  Warner  and  Hedge 
have  met  them,  but  still  on  they  come.  The  bull-dogs 
rush  in  for  the  last  time ;  they  are  hurled  over  or 
carried  back,  striving  hand,  foot,  and  eyelids.  Old 
Brooke  comes  sweeping  round  the  skirts  of  the  play, 
and,  turning  short  round,  picks  out  the  very  heart  of 
the  scrummage,  and  plunges  in.  It  wavers  for  a  mo- 
ment— he  has  the  ball !  No,  it  has  passed  him,  and 
his  voice  rings  out  clear  over  the  advancing,  tide 
"Look  out  in  goal."  Crab  Jones  catches  it  for  a 
moment;  but  before  he  can  kick,  the  rush  is  upon 
him  and  passes  over  him  ;  and  he  picks  himself  up 
behind  them  with  his  straw  in  his  mouth,  a  little 
dirtier,  but  as  cool  as  ever. 

The  ball  rolls  slowly  in  behind  the  School-house 
goal  not  three  yards  in  front  of  a  dozen  of  the  biggest 
School  players-up. 

There  stand  the  School-house  proepostor,  safest  of 
goal-keepers,  and  Tom  Brown  by  his  side,  who  has 
10 


146  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

learned  his  trade  by  this  time.  Now  is  your  time,  Tom. 
The  blood  of  all  the  Browns  is  up,  and  the  two  rush  in 
together,  and  throw  themselves  on  the  ball,  under  the 
very  feet  of  the  advancing  column ;  the  praepostor  on 
his  hands  and  knees  arching  his  back,  and  Tom  all 
along  on  his  face.  Over  them  topple  the  leaders  of  the 
rush,  shooting  over  the  back  of  the  praepostor,  but  fall- 
ing flat  on  Tom,  and  knocking  all  the  wind  out  of  his 
small  carcase.  "  Our  ball,"  says  the  praepostor,  rising 
with  his  prize  ;  "  but  get  up  there,  there's  a  little  fellow 
under  you."  They  are  hauled  and  roll  off  him,  and 
Tom  is  disco  vei'ed  a  motionless  body. 

Old  Brooke  picks  him  up.  "  Stand  back,  give  him 
air,"  he  says;  and  then  feeling  his  limbs,  adds,  "No 
bones  broken.  How  do  you  feel,  young  un  ?" 

"  Hah-hah,"  gasps  Tom  as  his  wind  comes  back, 
"pretty  well,  thank  you — all  right." 

"Who  is  he?"  says  Brooke.  "Oh,  it's  Brown,  he's 
a  new  boy  ;  I  know  him,"  says  East,  coming  up. 

"  Well,  he  is  a  plucky  youngster,  and  will  make  a 
player,"  says  Brooke. 

And  five  o'clock  strikes.  "No  side"  is  called,  and 
the  first  day  of  the  School-house  match  is  over. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
AFTER  THE  MATCH. 

-Some  food  we  had." — Shakespere. 


i]<;  wo™?  aSvs. — THEOCE.  Id. 

As  the  boys  scattered  away  from  the  ground,  and 
East,  leaning  on  Tom's  arm,  and  limping  along,  was 
beginning  to  consider  what  luxury  they  should  go  and 
buy  for  tea  to  celebrate  that  glorious  victory,  the  two 
Brookes  came  striding  by.  Old  Brooke  caught  sight 
of  East,  and  stopped ;  put  his  hand  kindly  on  his 
shoulder  and  said,  "  Bravo,  youngster,  you  played 
famously;  not  much  the  matter,  I  hope?" 

"No,  nothing  at  all,"  said  East,  "only  a  little  twist 
from  that  charge." 

"Well,  mind  and  get  all  right  for  next  Saturday;" 
and  the  leader  passed  on,  leaving  East  better  for  those 
few  words  than  all  the  opodeldoc  in  England  would 
have  made  him,  and  Tom  ready  to  give  one  of  his  ears 
for  as  much  notice.  Ah  !  light  words  of  those  whom 
we  love  and  honor,  what  a  power  ye  are,  and  how 
carelessly  wielded  by  those  who  can  use  you  !  Surely 
for  these  things  also  God  will  ask  an  account. 

"  Tea's    directly   after   locking-up,    you   see,"   said 

147 


148  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

East,  hobbling  along  as  fast  as  he  could,  "  so  you  come 
along  down  to  Sally  Harrowell's ;  that's  our  school- 
house  tuck-shop — she  bakes  such  stunning  murphies, 
we'll  have  a  penn'orth  each  for  tea;  come  along,  or 
they'll  all  be  gone." 

Tom's  new  purse  and  money  burnt  in  his  pocket ;  he 
wondered,  as  they  toddled  through  the  quadrangle  and 
along  the  street,  whether  East  would  be  insulted  if  he 
suggested  further  extravagance,  as  he  had  not  sufficient 
faith  in  a  pennyworth  of  potatoes.  At  last  he  blurted 
out, — 

"  I  say,  East,  can't  we  get  something  else  besides 
potatoes?  I've  got  lots  of  money,  you  know." 

"Bless  us,  yes,  I  forgot,"  said  East,  "you've  only 
just  come.  You  see  all  my  tin's  been  gone  this  twelve 
weeks,  it  hardly  ever  lasts  beyond  the  first  fortnight ; 
and  our  allowances  were  all  stopped  this  morning  for 
broken  windows,  so  I  haven't  got  a  penny.  I've  got  a 
tick  at  Sally's,  of  course ;  but  then  I  hate  running  it 
high,  you  see,  towards  the  end  of  the  half,  'cause  one 
has  to  shell  out  for  it  all  directly  one  comes  back,  and 
that's  a  bore." 

Tom  didn't  understand  much  of  this  talk,  but  seized 
on  the  fact  that  East  had  no  money,  and  was  deny- 
ing himself  some  little  pet  luxury  in  consequence. 
"  Well,  what  shall  I  buy  ?"  said  he  ;  "  I'm  uncommon 
hungry." 

"  I  say,"  said  East,  stopping  to  look  at  him  and  rest 
his  leg,  "you're  a  trump,  Brown.  I'll  do  the  same  by 


AFTER  THE  MATCH.  149 

you  next  half.  Let's  have  a  pound  of  sausages,  then  ; 
that's  the  best  grub  for  tea  I  know  of." 

"Very  well,"  said  Tom,  as  pleased  as  possible; 
"where  do  they  sell  them?" 

"  Oh,  over  here,  just  opposite;"  arid  they  crossed 
the  street  and  walked  into  the  cleanest  little  front  room 
of  a  small  house,  half  parlor,  half  shop,  and  bought  a 
pound  of  most  particular  sausages  ;  East  talking  pleas- 
antly to  Mrs.  Porter  while  she  put  them  in  paper,  and 
Tom  doing  the  paying  part. 

From  Porter's  they  adjourned  to  Sally  Harrowell's, 
where  they  found  a  lot  of  School-house  boys  waiting 
for  the  roast  potatoes,  and  relating  their  own  exploits 
in  the  day's  match  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  The 
street  opened  at  once  into  Sally's  kitchen,  a  low,  brick- 
floored  room,  with  large  recess  for  fire,  arid  chimney- 
corner  seats.  Poor  little  Sally,  the  most  good-natured 
and  much  enduring  of  womankind,  was  bustling  about 
with  a  napkin  in  her  hand,  from  her  own  oven  to  those 
of  her  neighbors'  cottages,  up  the  yard  at  the  back 
of  the  house.  Stumps,  her  husband,  a  short,  easy- 
going shoemaker,  with  a  beery  humorous  eye  and  pon- 
derous calves,  who  lived  mostly  on  his  wife's  earnings, 
stood  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  exchanging  shots  of  the 
roughest  description  of  repartee  with  every  boy  in  turn. 
"  Stumps,  you  lout,  you've  had  too  much  beer  again 
to-day."  "  'Twasn't  of  your  paying  for,  then." — 
"  Stumps's  calves  are  running  down  into  his  ankles, 
they  want  to  get  to  grass."  "  Better  be  doing  that, 


150  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

than  gone  altogether  like  yours,"  etc.,  etc.  Very  poor 
stuff  it  was,  but  it  served  to  make  time  pass  ;  and  every 
now  and  then  Sally  arrived  in  the  middle  with  a  smok- 
ing tin  of  potatoes,  which  were  cleared  off  in  a  few  sec- 
onds, each  boy  as  he  seized  his  lot  running  off  to  the 
house  with  "  Put  me  down  two-penn'orth,  Sally ;" 
"Put  down  three-penn'orth  between  me  and  Davis," 
etc.  How  she  ever  kept  the  accounts  so  straight  as  she 
did,  in  her  head  and  on  her  slate,  was  a  perfect  wonder. 

East  and  Tom  got  served  at  last,  and  started  back 
for  the  School-house  just  as  the  locking-up  bell  began 
to  ring  ;  East  on  the  way  recounting  the  life  and  adven- 
tures of  Stumps,  who  was  a  character.  Amongst  his 
other  small  avocations,  he  was  the  hind  carrier  of  a 
sedan-chair,  the  last  of  its  race,  in  which  the  Rugby 
ladies  still  went  out  to  tea,  and  in  Avhich,  when  he  was 
fairly  harnessed  and  carrying  a  load,  it  was  the  delight 
of  small  and  mischievous  boys  to  follow  him  and  whip 
his  calves.  This  was  too  much  for  the  temper  even  of 
Stumps,  and  he  would  pursue  his  tormentors  in  a  vin- 
dictive and  apoplectic  manner  when  released,  but  was 
easily  pacified  by  twopence  to  buy  beer  with. 

The  lower  school-boys  of  the  School-house,  some 
fifteen  in  number,  had  tea  in  the  lower-fifth  school, 
and  were  presided  over  by  the  old  verger  or  head- 
porter.  Each  boy  had  a  quarter  of  a  loaf  of  bread 
and  pat  of  butter,  and  as  much  tea  as  he  pleased ;  and 
there  was  scarcely  one  who  didn't  add  to  this  some 
further  luxury,  such  as  baked  potatoes,  a  herring, 


AFTEE  THE  MATCH.  151 

sprats,  or  something  of  the  sort ;  but  few,  at  this  period 
of  the  half-year,  could  live  up  to  a  pound  of  Porter's 
sausages,  and  East  was  in  great  magnificence  upon  the 
strength  of  theirs.  He  had  produced  a  toasting-fork 
from  his  study,  and  set  Tom  to  toast  the  sausages, 
while  he  mounted  guard  over  their  butter  and  pota- 
toes; "'cause,"  as  he  explained,  "you're  a  new  boy, 
and  they'll  play  you  some  trick  and  get  our  butter,  but 
you  can  toast  just  as  well  as  I."  So  Tom,  in  the  midst 
of  three  or  four  more  urchins  similarly  employed,  toasted 
his  face  and  the  sausages  at  the  same  time  before  the 
huge  fire,  till  the  latter  cracked ;  when  East  from  his 
watch-tower  shouted  that  they  were  done ;  and  then 
the  feast  proceeded,  and  the  festive  cups  of  tea  were 
filled  and  emptied,  and  Tom  imparted  of  the  sausages 
in  small  bits  to  many  neighbors,  and  thought  he  had 
never  tasted  such  good  potatoes  or  seen  such  jolly  boys. 
They  on  their  parts  waived  all  ceremony,  and  pegged 
away  at  the  sausages  and  potatoes,  and,  remembering 
Tom's  performance  in  goal,  voted  East's  new  crony 
a  brick.  After  tea,  and  while  the  things  were  being 
cleared  away,  they  gathered  round  the  fire,  and  the 
talk  on  the  match  still  went  on :  and  those  who  had 
them  to  show,  pulled  up  their  trousers  and  showed  the 
hacks  they  had  received  in  the  good  cause. 

They  were  soon,  however,  all  turned  out  of  the  school, 
and  East  conducted  Tom  up  to  his  bedroom,  that  he 
might  get  on  clean  things  and  wash  himself  before 
singing. 


152  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"What's  singing?"  said  Tom,  taking  his  head  out 
of  his  basin,  where  he  had  been  plunging  it  in  cold 
water. 

"Well,  you  are  jolly  green,"  answered  his  friend 
from  a  neighboring  basin.  "  Why,  the  last  six  Sat- 
urdays of  every  half,  we  sing  of  course  ;  and  this  is  the 
first  of  them.  No  first  lesson  to  do,  you  know,  and  lie 
in  bed  to-morrow  morning." 

"  But  who  sings?" 

"  Why  everybody,  of  course ;  you'll  see  soon  enough. 
We  begin  directly  after  supper,  and  sing  till  bed-time. 
It  ain't  such  good  fun  now  though  as  in  the  summer 
half,  'cause  then  we  sing  in  the  little  fives'  court,  under 
the  library,  you  know.  We  take  our  tables,  and  the 
big  boys  sit  round,  and  drink  beer ;  double  allowance 
on  Saturday  nights ;  and  we  cut  about  the  quadrangle 
between  the  songs,  and  it  looks  like  a  lot  of  robbers  in 
a  cave.  And  the  louts  come  and  pound  at  the  great 
gates,  and  we  pound  back  again,  and  shout  at  them. 
But  this  half  we  only  sing  in  the  hall.  Come  along 
down  to  my  study." 

Their  principal  employment  in  the  study  was  to 
clear  out  East's  table,  removing  the  drawers  and 
ornaments  and  tablecloth  ;  for  he  lived  in  the  bot- 
tom passage,  and  his  table  was  in  reoluisition  for  the 
singing. 

Supper  came  in  due  course  at  seven  o'clock,  consist- 
ing of  bread  and  cheese  and  beer,  which  was  all  saved 
for  the  singing ;  and  directly  afterwards  the  fags  went 


AFTER   THE   MATCH.  153 

to  work  to  prepare  the  hall.  The  School-house  hall, 
as  has  been  said,  is  a  great  long  high  room,  with  two 
large  fires  on  one  side,  and  two  large  iron-bound  tables, 
one  running  down  the  middle,  and  the  other  along  the 
wall  opposite  the  fire-places.  Around  the  upper  fire 
the  fags  placed  the  tables  in  the  form  of  a  horse-shoe, 
and  upon  them  the  jugs  with  the  Saturday  night's 
allowance  of  beer.  Then  the  big  boys  used  to  drop  in 
and  take  their  seats,  bringing  with  them  bottled  beer 
and  song-books  ;  for  although  they  all  knew  the  songs 
by  heart,  it  was  the  thing  to  have  an  old  manuscript 
book  descended  from  some  departed  hero,  in  which 
they  were  all  carefully  Avritten  out. 

The  sixth-form  boys  had  not  yet  appeared  ;  so,  to 
fill  up  the  gap,  an  interesting  and  time-honored  cere- 
mony Avas  gone  through.  Each  new  boy  was  placed 
on  the  table  in  turn,  and  made  to  sing  a  solo,  under 
the  penalty  of  drinking  a  large  mug  of  salt  and  water 
if  he  resisted  or  broke  down.  However,  the  new  boys 
all  sing  like  nightingales  to-night,  and  the  salt  water  is 
not  in  requisition  ;  Tom,  as  his  part,  performing  the 
old  west-country  song  of  "The  Leather  Bottel"  with 
considerable  applause.  And  at  the  half-hour  down 
come  the  sixth  and  fifth-form  boys,  and  take  their 
places  at  the  tables,  which  are  filled  up  by  the  next 
biggest  boys,  the  rest,  for  whom  there  is  no  room  at 
the  table,  standing  round  outside. 

The  glasses  and  mugs  are  filled,  and  then  the  fugle- 
man strikes  up  the  old  sea  song — 


154  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea, 
And  a  wind  that  follows  fast,"  &c., 

which  is  the  invariable  first  song  in  the  School-house, 
and  all  the  seventy  voices  join  in,  not  mindful  of  har- 
mony, but  bent  on  noise,  -which  they  attain  decidedly ; 
but  the  general  efiect  isn't  bad.  And  then  follow  the 
"British  Grenadiers,"  "Billy  Taylor,"  "The  Siege 
of  Seringapatam,"  "  Three  Jolly  Postboys,"  and  other 
vociferous  songs  in  rapid  succession,  including  the 
"  Chesapeake  and  Shannon,"  a  song  lately  introduced 
in  honor  of  old  Brooke ;  and  when  they  come  to  the 
words— 

"  Brave  Broke  he  waved  his  sword,  crying,  Now,  ray  lads,  aboard, 
And  we'll  stop  their  phiying  Yankee-doodle-diindy,  oh  !" 

you  expect  the  roof  to  come  down.  The  sixth  and  fifth 
know  that  "  brave  Broke  "  of  the  Shannon  was  no  sort 
of  relation  to  our  old  Brooke.  The  fourth-form  are 
uncertain  in  their  belief,  but  for  the  most  part  hold 
that  old  Brooke  was  a  midshipman  then  on  board  his 
uncle's  ship.  And  the  lower  school  never  doubt  for 
a  moment  that  it  was  our  old  Brooke  who  led  the 
boarders,  in  what  capacity  they  care  not  a  straw. 
During  the  pauses  the  bottled-beer  corks  fly  rapidly, 
and  the  talk  is  fast  and  merry,  and  the  big  boys,  at 
least  all  of  them  who  have  a  fellow-feeling  for  dry 
throats,  hand  their  mugs  over  their  shoulders  to  be 
emptied  by  the  small  ones  who  stand  round  behind. 
Then  Warner,  the  head  of  the  house,  gets  up  and 


AFTER  THE  MATCH.  155 

wants  to  speak,  but  he  can't,  for  every  boy  knows 
what's  coming ;  and  the  big  boys  who  sit  at  the  tables 
pound  them  and  cheer ;  and  the  small  boys  who  stand 
behind  pound  one  another,  and  cheer,  and  rush  about 
the  hall  cheering.  Then  silence  being  made,  Warner 
reminds  them  of  the  old  School-house  custom  of  drink- 
ing the  healths,  on  the  first  night  of  singing,  of  those 
who  are  going  to  leave  at  the  end  of  the  half.  "  He 
sees  that  they  know  what  he  is  going  to  say  already — 
(loud  cheers) — and  so  won't  keep  them,  but  only  ask 
them  to  treat  the  toast  as  it  deserves.  It  is  the  head 
of  the  eleven,  the  head  of  the  big-side  football,  their 
leader  on  this  glorious  day — Pater  Brooke  !" 

And  away  goes  the  pounding  and  cheering  again, 
becoming  deafening  when  old  Brooke  gets  on  his  legs ; 
till,  a  table  having  broken  down,  and  a  gallon  or  so  of 
beer  been  upset,  and  all  throats  getting  dry,  silence 
ensues,  and  the  hero  speaks,  leaning  his  hands  on  the 
table,  and  bending  a  little  forwards.  No  action,  no 
tricks  of  oratory  ;  plain,  strong,  and  straight,  like  his 
play. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  School-house  !  I  am  very  proud 
of  the  way  in  which  you  have  received  my  name,  and 
I  wish  I  could  say  all  I  should  like  in  return.  But  I 
know  I  shan't.  However,  I'll  do  the  best  I  can  to  say 
what  seems  to  me  ought  to  be  said  by  a  fellow  who's 
just  going  to  leave,  and  who  has  spent  a  good  slice  of 
his  life  here.  Eight  years  it  is,  and  eight  such  years 
as  I  can  never  hope  to  have  again.  So  now  I  hope 


156  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

you'll  all  listen  to  me — (loud  cheers  of  '  that  we  will ') 
— for  I'm  going  to  talk  seriously.  You're  bound  to 
listen  to  me  ;  for  what's  the  use  of  calling  me  '  pater,' 
and  all  that,  if  you  don't  mind  what  I  say  ?  And  I'm 
going  to  talk  seriously,  because  I  feel  so.  It's  a  jolly 
time,  too,  getting  to  the  end  of  the  half,  and  a  goal 
kicked  by  us  first  day — (tremendous  applause) — after 
one  of  the  hardest  and  fiercest  day's  play  I  can  remem- 
ber in  eight  years — (frantic  shoutings).  The  school 
played  splendidly,  too,  I  will  say,  and  kept  it  up  to 
the  last.  That  last  charge  of  theirs  would  have  carried 
away  a  house.  I  never  thought  to  see  anything  again 
of  old  Crab  there,  except  little  pieces,  when  I  saw  him 
tumbled  over  by  it — (laughter  and  shouting,  and  great 
slapping  on  the  back  of  Jones  by  the  boys  nearest  him). 
Well,  but  we  beat  'em — (cheers).  Aye,  but  why  did 
we  beat  'em  ?  answer  me  that — (shouts  of  '  your  play  '). 
Nonsense  !  'Twasn't  the  wind  and  kick-off  either — 
that  wouldn't  do  it.  'Twasn't  because  we've  half-a- 
dozen  of  the  best  players  in  the  school,  as  we  have.  I 
wouldn't  change  Warner,  and  Hedge,  and  Crab,  and 
the  young  un,  for  any  six  on  their  side — (violent 
cheers).  But  half-a-dozen  fellows  can't  keep  it  up  for 
tAvo  hours  against  two  hundred.  Why  is  it,  then  ?  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  think.  It's  because  we've  more  re- 
liance on  one  another,  more  of  a  house  feeling,  more 
fellowship  than  the  school  can  have.  Each  of  us 
knows  and  can  depend  on  his  next  hand  man  better — 
that's  why  AVC  beat  'em  to-day.  We've  union,  they've 


AFTER  THE   MATCH.  157 

division — there's  the  secret — (cheers).  But  how's  this 
to  be  kept  up  ?  How's  it  to  be  improved  ?  That's 
the  question.  For  I  take  it,  we're  all  in  earnest  about 
beating  the  school,  whatever  else  we  care  about.  I 
know  I'd  sooner  win  two  School-house  matches  run- 
ning than  get  the  Balliol  scholarship  any  day — (frantic 
cheers). 

';  Now,  I'm  as  proud  of  the  house  as  any  one.  I 
believe  it's  the  best  house  in  the  school,  out-and-out — 
(cheers).  But  it's  a  long  way  from  what  I  want  to  see 
it.  First  there's  a  deal  of  bullying  going  on.  I  know 
it  well.  I  don't  pry  about  and  interfere ;  that  only 
makes  it  more  underhand,  and  encourages  the  small 
boys  to  come  to  us  with  their  fingers  in  their  eyes 
telling  tales,  and  so  we  should  be  worse  off  than  ever. 
It's  very  little  kindness  for  the  sixth  to  meddle  gen- 
erally— you  youngsters,  mind  that.  You'll  be  all  the 
better  football  players  for  learning  to  stand  it,  and  to 
take  your  own  parts,  and  fight  it  through.  But  de- 
pend on  it,  there's  nothing  breaks  up  a  house  like 
bullying.  Bullies  are  cowards,  and  one  coward  makes 
many  ;  so  good-bye  to  the  School-house  match  if  bully- 
ing gets  ahead  here.  (Loud  applause  from  the  small 
boys,  who  look  meaningly  at  Flashrnan  and  other  boys 
at  the  tables.)  Then  there's  fuddling  about  in  the 
public  houses,  and  drinking  bad  spirits,  and  punch, 
and  such  rot-gut  stuff.  That  won't  make  good  drop- 
kicks  or  chargers  of  you,  take  my  word  for  it.  You 
get  plenty  of  good  beer  here,  and  that's  enough  for 


158  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

you  ;  and  drinking  isn't  fine  or  manly,  whatever  some 
of  you  may  think  of  it. 

"  One  other  thing  I  must  have  a  word  about.  A 
lot  of  you  think  and  say,  for  I've  heard  you,  '  There's 
this  new  Doctor  hasn't  been  here  so  long  as  some  of 
us,  and  he's  changing  all  the  old  customs.  Rugby, 
and  the  School-house  especially,  are  going  to  the  dogs. 
Stand  up  for  the  good  old  ways,  and  down  with  the 
Doctor  !'  Now  I'm  as  fond  of  old  Rugby  customs  and 
ways  as  any  of  you,  and  I've  been  here  longer  than 
any  of  you,  and  I'll  give  you  a  word  of  advice  in  time, 
for  I  shouldn't  like  to  see  any  of  you  getting  sacked. 
'Down  with  the  Doctor!'  is  easier  said  than  done. 
You'll  find  him  pretty  tight  on  his  perch,  I  take  it, 
and  an  awkwardish  customer  to  handle  in  that  line. 
Besides  now,  what  customs  has  he  put  down  ?  There 
was  the  good  old  custom  of  taking  the  linch-pins  out 
of  the  farmers'  and  bagmen's  gigs  at  the  fairs,  and  a 
cowardly  blackguard  custom  it  was.  We  all  know 
what  came  of  it ;  and  no  wonder  the  Doctor  objected 
to  it.  But,  come  now,  any  of  you,  name  a  custom  that 
he  has  put  down." 

"  The  hounds,"  calls  out  a  fifth-form  boy,  clad  in  a 
green  cutaway  with  brass  buttons  and  cord  trousers, 
the  leader  of  the  sporting  interest,  and  reputed  a  great 
rider  and  keen  hand  generally. 

"  Well,  we  had  six  or  seven  mangey  harriers  and 
beagles  belonging  to  the  house,  I'll  allow,  and  had  had 
them  for  years,  and  that  the  Doctor  put  them  down. 


AFTER  THE  MATCH.  159 

But  what  good  ever  came  of  them  ?  Only  rows  with 
all  the  keepers  for  ten  miles  round ;  and  big-side  Hare 
and  Hounds  is  better  fun  ten  times  over.  What  else?" 

No  answer. 

"  Well,  I  won't  go  on.  Think  it  over  for  your- 
selves: you'll  find,  I  believe,  that  he  don't  meddle 
with  any  one  that's  worth  keeping.  And  mind  now, 
I  say  again,  look  out  for  squalls,  if  you  will  go  your 
own  way,  and  that  way  ain't  the  Doctor's,  for  it'll 
lead  to  grief.  You  all  know  that  I'm  not  the  fellow 
to  back  a  master  through  thick  and  thin.  If  I  saw 
him  stopping  football,  or  cricket,  or  bathing,  or  spar- 
ring, I'd  be  as  ready  as  any  fellow  to  stand  up  about 
it.  But  he  don't — he  encourages  them  ;  didn't  you  see 
him  out  to-day  for  half-an-hour  watching  us  ?  (loud 
cheers  for  the  Doctor  ;)  and  he's  a  strong,  true  man, 
and  a  wise  one  too,  and  a  public-school  man  too. 
(Cheers.)  And  so  let's  stick  to  him,  and  talk  no  more 
rot,  and  drink  his  health  as  the  head  of  the  house. 
(Loud  cheers.)  And  now  I've  done  blowing  up,  and 
very  glad  I  am  to  have  done.  But  its  a  solemn  thing 
to  be  thinking  of  leaving  a  place  which  one  has  lived 
in  and  loved  for  eight  years ;  and  if  one  can  say  a 
word  for  the  good  of  the  old  house  at  such  a  time,  why, 
it  should  be  said,  whether  bitter  or  sweet.  If  I  hadn't 
been  proud  of  the  house  and  you — aye,  no  one  knows 
how  proud — I  shouldn't  be  blowing  you  up.  And  now 
let's  get  to  singing.  But  before  I  sit  down  I  must 
give  you  a  toast  to  be  drunk  with  three-times-three 


100  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  all  the  honors.  It's  a  toast  which  I  hope  every 
one  of  us,  wherever  he  may  go  hereafter,  will  never 
fail  to  drink  when  he  thinks  of  the  brave  bright  days 
of  his  boyhood.  It's  a  toast  which  should  bind  us  all 
together,  and  to  those  who've  gone  before,  and  who'll 
come  after  us  here.  It  is  the  dear  old  school-house — 
the  best  house  of  the  best  school  in  England  !" 

My  dear  boys,  old  and  young,  you  who  have  be- 
longed, or  do  belong,  to  other  schools  and  other  houses, 
don't  begin  throwing  my  poor  little  book  about  the 
room,  and  abusing  me  and  it,  and  vowing  you'll  read 
no  more  when  you  get  to  this  point.  I  allow  you've 
provocation  for  it.  But,  come  now — would  you,  any 
of  you,  give  a  fig  for  a  fellow  who  didn't  believe  in, 
and  stand  up  for  his  own  house  and  his  own  school  ? 
You  know  you  wouldn't.  Then  don't  object  to  my 
cracking  up  the  old  School-house,  Rugby.  Haven't  I 
a  right  to  do  it,  when  I'm  taking  all  the  trouble  of 
writing  this  true  history  for  your  benefits  ?  If  you 
ain't  satisfied,  go  and  write  the  history  of  your  own 
houses  in  your  own  times,  and  say  all  you  know  for 
your  own  schools  and  houses,  provided  it's  true,  and 
I'll  read  it  without  abusing  you. 

The  last  few  words  hit  the  audience  in  their  weakest 
place ;  they  had  been  not  altogether  enthusiastic  at 
several  parts  of  old  Brooke's  speech;  but  "the  best 
house  of  the  best  school  in  England  "  was  too  much 
for  them  all,  and  carried  even  the  sporting  and  drink- 
ing interests  off  their  legs  into  rapturous  applause,  and 


AFTER  THE   MATCH.  161 

(it  is  to  be  hoped)  resolutions  to  lead  a  new  life  and 
remember  old  Brooke's  words ;  which,  however,  they 
didn't  altogether  do,  as  will  appear  hereafter. 

But  it  required  all  old  Brooke's  popularity  to  carry 
down  parts  of  his  speech  ;  especially  that  relating  to 
the  Doctor.  For  there  are  no  such  bigoted  holders  by 
established  forms  and  customs,  be  they  never  so  foolish 
or  meaningless,  as  English  school-boys — at  least,  as 
the  school-boy  of  our  generation.  We  magnified  into 
heroes  every  boy  who  had  left,  and  looked  upon  him 
with  awe  and  reverence,  when  he  revisited  the  place  a 
year  or  so  afterwards,  on  his  way  to  or  from  Oxford  or 
Cambridge ;  and  happy  was  the  boy  who  remembered 
him,  and  sure  of  an  audience  as  he  expounded  what  he 
used  to  do  and  say,  though  it  were  sad  enough  stuff  to 
make  angels,  not  to  say  head  masters,  weep. 

We  looked  upon  every  trumpery  little  custom  and 
habit  which  had  obtained  in  the  school  as  though  it 
had  been  a  law  of  the  Medes  and  Persians,  and  re- 
garded the  infringement  or  variation  of  it  as  a  sort  of 
sacrilege.  And  the  Doctor,  than  whom  no  man  or  boy 
had  a  stronger  liking  for  old  school  customs  which  were 
good  and  sensible,  had,  as  has  already  been  hinted, 
come  into  most  decided  collision  with  several  which 
were  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  And  as  old 
Brooke  had  said,  when  he  came  into  collision  with 
boys  or  customs,  there  was  nothing  for  them  but  to 
give  in  or  take  themselves  off;  because  what  he  said 
had  to  be  done,  and  no  mistake  about  it.  And  this 
11 


162  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

was  beginning  to  be  pretty  clearly  understood ;  the 
boys  felt  that  there  was  a  strong  man  over  them,  who 
would  have  things  his  own  way ;  and  hadn't  yet 
learned  that  he  was  a  wise  and  loving  man  also.  His 
personal  character  and  influence  had  not  had  time  to 
make  itself  felt,  except  by  a  very  few  of  the  bigger 
boys,  with  whom  he  came  more  directly  in  contact ; 
and  he  was  looked  upon  with  great  fear  and  dislike  by 
the  great  majority  even  of  his  own  house.  For  he  had 
found  school,  and  school-house,  in  a  state  of  monstrous 
license  and  misrule,  and  was  still  employed  in  the  nec- 
essary but  unpopular  work  of  setting  up  order  with  a 
strong  hand. 

However,  as  has  been  said,  old  Brooke  triumphed, 
and  the  boys  cheered  him  and  then  the  Doctor.  And 
then  more  songs  came,  and  the  healths  of  the  other 
boys  about  to  leave,  Avho  each  made  a  speech,  one 
flowery,  another  maudlin,  a  third  prosy,  and  so  on, 
which  are  not  necessary  to  be  here  recorded. 

Half-past  nine  struck  in  the  middle  of  the  perform- 
ance of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne,"  a  most  obstreperous  pro- 
ceeding ;  during  which  there  was  an  immense  amount 
of  standing  with  one  foot  on  the  table,  knocking  mugs 
together  and  shaking  hands,  without  which  accom- 
paniments it  seems  impossible  for  the  youth  of  Britain 
to  take  part  in  that  famous  old  song.  The  under-por- 
ter  of  the  School-house  entered  during  the  perform- 
ance, bearing  five  or  six  long  wooden  candlesticks, 
with  lighted  dips  in  them,  which  he  proceeded  to  stick 


AFTER  THE  MATCH.  163 

into  their  holes  in  such  part  of  the  great  tables  as  he 
could  get  at ;  and  then  stood  outside  the  ring  till  the 
end  of  the  song,  when  he  was  hailed  with  shouts. 

"Bill,  you  old  muff,  the  half-hour  hasn't  struck." 
"Here,  Bill,  drink  some  cocktail,"  "  Sing  us  a  song, 
old  boy,"  "Don't  you  wish  you  may  get  the  table?" 
Bill  drank  the  proffered  cocktail  not  unwillingly,  and 
putting  down  the  empty  glass,  remonstrated,  "Now, 
gentlemen,  there's  only  ten  minutes  to  prayers,  and  we 
must  get  the  hall  straight." 

Shouts  of  "No,  no!"  and  a  violent  effort  to  strike 
up  "  Billy  Taylor  "  for  the  third  time.  Bill  looked 
appealingly  to  old  Brooke,  who  got  up  and  stopped  the 
noise.  "  Now  then,  lend  a  hand,  you  youngsters,  and 
get  the  tables  back  ;  clear  away  the  jugs  and  glasses. 
Bill's  right.  Open  the  windows,  Warner.  The  boy 
addressed,  who  sat  by  the  long  ropes,  proceeded  to  pull 
up  the  great  windows,  and  let  in  a  clear  fresh  rush  of 
night  air,  which  made  the  candles  flicker  and  gutter, 
and  the  fires  roar.  The  circle  broke  up,  each  collaring 
his  own  jug,  glass,  and  song-book ;  Bill  pounced  on 
the  big  table,  and  began  to  rattle  it  away  to  its  place 
outside  the  buttery-door.  The  lower-passage  boys 
carried  off  their  small  tables,  aided  by  their  friends, 
while  above  all,  standing  on  the  great  hall-table,  a 
knot  of  untiring  sons  of  harmony  made  night  doleful 
by  a  prolonged  performance  of  "  God  save  the  King." 
His  Majesty  King  William  IV.  then  reigned  over  us, 
a  monarch  deservedly  popular  amongst  the  boys  ad- 


164  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

dieted  to  melody,  to  whom  he  was  chiefly  known  from 
the  beginning  of  that  excellent,  if  slightly  vulgar,  song 
in  which  they  much  delighted — 

"Come,  neighbors  all,  both  great  and  small, 

Perform  your  duties  here, 
And  loudly  sing  '  live  Billy  our  king,' 
For  bating  the  tax  upon  beer." 

Others  of  the  more  learned  in  songs  also  celebrated  his 
praises  in  a  sort  of  ballad,  which  I  take  to  have  been 
written  by  some  Irish  loyalist.  I  have  forgotten  all 
but  the  chorus,  which  ran — 

"  God  save  our  good  King  William,  be  his  name  forever  blessed  ; 
He's  the  father,  of  all  his  people,  and  the  guardian  of  all  the  rest." 

In  troth,  we  were  loyal  subjects  in  those  days,  in  a 
rough  way.  I  trust  that  our  successors  make  as  much 
of  her  present  Majesty,  and,  having  regard  to  the 
greater  refinement  of  the  times,  have  adopted  or  writ- 
ten other  songs  equally  hearty,  but  more  civilized,  in 
her  honor. 

Then  the  quarter  to  ten  struck,  and  the  prayer-bell 
rang.  The  sixth  and  fifth  form  boys  ranged  them- 
selves in  their  school  order  along  the  wall,  on  either 
side  of  the  great  fires,  the  middle  fifth  and  upper- 
school  boys  round  the  long  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
hall,  and  the  lower-school  boys  round  the  upper  part 
of  the  second  long  table,  which  ran  down  the  side  of 
the  hall  furthest  from  the  fires.  Here  Tom  found  him- 
self at  the  bottom  of  all,  in  a  state  of  mind  and  body 


AFTER  THE   MATCH.  165 

not  at  all  fit  for  prayers,  as  lie  thought ;  and  so  tried 
hard  to  make  himself  serious,  but  couldn't,  for  the  life 
of  him,  do  anything  but  repeat  in  his  head  the  choruses 
of  some  of  the  songs,  and  stare  at  all  the  boys  oppo- 
site, wondering  at  the  brilliancy  of  their  waistcoats, 
and  speculating  what  sort  of  fellows  they  were.  The 
steps  of  the  head-porter  are  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  a 
light  gleams  at  the  door.  "Hush!"  from  the  fifth- 
form  boys  who  stand  there,  and  then  in  strides  the 
Doctor,  cap  on  head,  book  in  one  hand,  and  gathering 
up  his  gown  in  the  other.  He  walks  up  the  middle, 
and  takes  his  post  by  Warner,  who  begins  calling  over 
the  names.  The  Doctor  takes  no  notice  of  anything, 
but  quietly  turns  over  his  book  and  finds  the  place, 
and  then  stands,  cap  in  hand  and  finger  in  book,  look- 
ing straight  before  his  nose.  He  knows  better  than 
any  one  when  to  look,  and  when  to  see  nothing  ;  to-night 
is  singing  night,  and  there's  been  lots  of  noise  and  no 
harm  done ;  nothing  but  beer  drunk,  and  nobody  the 
worse  for  it ;  though  some  of  them  do  look  hot  and 
excited.  So  the  Doctor  sees  nothing,  but  fascinates 
Tom  in  a  horrible  manner  as  he  stands  there,  and 
reads  out  the  Psalm  in  that  deep,  ringing,  searching 
voice  of  his.  Prayers  are  over,  and  Tom  still  stares 
open-mouthed  after  the  Doctor's  retiring  figure,  when  he 
feels  a  pull  at  his  sleeve,  and  turning  round,  sees  East. 

"  I  say,  were  you  ever  tossed  in  a  blanket?" 

"No,"  said  Tom  ;  "why?" 

"  'Cause  there'll  be  tossing  to-night,  most   likely, 


166  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

before  the  sixth  come  up  to  bed.  So  if  you  funk,  you 
just  come  along  and  hide,  or  else  they'll  catch  you  and 
toss  you." 

"  Were  you  ever  tossed?  Does  it  hurt?"  inquired 
Tom. 

"  Oh  yes,  bless  you,  a  dozen  times,"  said  East,  as 
he  hobbled  along  by  Tom's  side  up-stairs.  "  It  don't 
hurt  unless  you  fall  on  the  floor.  But  most  fellows 
don't  like  it." 

They  stopped  at  the  fireplace  in  the  top  passage, 
where  were  a  crowd  of  small  boys  whispering  together, 
and  evidently  unwilling  to  go  up  into  the  bedrooms. 
In  a  minute,  however,  a  study  door  opened,  and  a 
sixth-form  boy  came  out,  and  off  they  all  scuttled  up 
the  stairs,  and  then  noiselessly  dispersed  to  their  dif- 
ferent rooms.  Tom's  heart  beat  rather  quick  as  he 
and  East  reached  their  room,  but  he  had  made  up  his 
mind.  "  I  shan't  hide,  East,"  said  he. 

"Very  well,  old  fellow,"  replied  East,  evidently 
pleased ;  "no  more  shall  I — they'll  be  here  for  us 
directly." 

The  room  was  a  great  big  one,  with  a  dozen  beds  in 
it,  but  not  a  boy  that  Tom  could  see,  except  East  and 
himself.  East  pulled  off'  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  and 
then  sat  on  the  bottom  of  his  bed,  whistling,  and  pull- 
ing off  his  boots ;  Tom  followed  his  example. 

A  noise  and  steps  are  heard  in  the  passage,  the  door 
opens,  and  in  rush  four  or  five  great  fifth-form  boys, 
headed  by  Flashman  in  his  glory. 


AFTER  THE  MATCH.   •  167 

Tom  and  East  slept  in  the  further  corner  of  the 
room,  and  were  not  seen  at  first. 

"Gone  to  ground,  eh?"  roared  Flashman ;  "push 
'em  out  then,  boys!  look  under  the  beds:"  and  he 
pulled  up  the  little  white  curtain  of  the  one  nearest 
him.  "Who-o-op,"  he  roared,  pulling  away  at  the 
leg  of  a  small  boy,  who  held  on  tight  to  the  leg  of  the 
bed,  and  sung  out  lustily  for  mercy. 

"  Here,  lend  a  hand,  one  of  you,  and  help  me  pull 
out  this  young  howling  brute.  Hold  your  tongue,  sir, 
or  I'll  kill  you." 

"  Oh,  please,  Flashman,  please,  Walker,  don't  toss 
me !  I'll  fag  for  you,  I'll  do  anything,  only  don't  toss 
me." 

"  You  be  hanged,"  said  Flashman,  lugging  the 

wretched  boy  along,  "  'twont  hurt  you, you  ! 

Come  along,  boys,  here  he  is." 

"I  say,  Flashy,"  sung  out  another  of  the  big  boys, 
'"drop  that;  you  heard  what  old  Pater  Brooke  said 
to-night.  I'll  be  hanged  if  we'll  toss  any  one  against 
their  will — no  more  bullying.  Let  him  go,  I  say." 

Flashman,  with  an  oath  and  a  kick,  released  his 
prey,  who  rushed  headlong  under  his  bed  again,  for 
fear  they  should  change  their  minds,  and  crept  along 
underneath  the  other  beds,  till  he  got  under  that  of  the 
sixth-form  boy,  which  he  knew  they  daren't  disturb. 

"There's  plenty  of  youngsters  don't  care  about  it," 
said  Walker.  "  Here,  here's  Scud  East — you'll  be 
tossed,  won't  you,  young  un?"  Scud  was  East's  nick- 


168  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

name,  or  Black,  as  we  called  it,  gained  by  his  fleetness 
of  foot. 

"  Yes,"  said  East,  "  if  you  like,  only  mind  my  foot." 

"  And  here's  another  who  didn't  hide.  Hullo  !  new 
boy  ;  what's  your  name,  sir?" 

u  Brown." 

"  Well,  Whitey  Brown,  you  don't  mind  being 
tossed?" 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  setting  his  teeth. 

"Come  along  then,  boys,"  sung  out  Walker ;  and 
away  they  all  went,  carrying  along  Tom  and  East,  to 
the  intense  relief  of  four  or  five  other  small  boys,  who 
crept  out  from  under  the  beds  and  behind  them. 

"  What  a  trump  Scud  is  !"  said  one.  "  They  won't 
corne  back  here  now." 

"•  And  that  new  boy,  too ;  he  must  be  a  good 
plucked  one." 

"  Ah  !  wait  till  he  has  been  tossed  on  to  the  floor ; 
see  how  he'll  like  it  then  !" 

Meantime  the  procession  went  down  the  passage  to 
Number  7,  the  largest  room,  and  the  scene  of  tossing, 
in  the  middle  of  which  was  a  great  open  space.  Here 
they  joined  other  parties  of  the  bigger  boys,  each  with 
a  captive  or  two,  some  willing  to  be  tossed,  some  sullen, 
and  some  frightened  to  death.  At  Walker's  sugges- 
tion, all  who  were  afraid  were  let  off,  in  honor  of 
Pater  Brooke's  speech. 

Then  a  dozen  big  boys  seized  hold  of  the  blanket 
dragged  from  one  of  the  beds.  "  In  with  Scud,  quick  ! 


AFTER  THE  MATCH.  169 

there's  no  time  to  lose."  East  was  chucked  into  the 
blanket.  "  Once,  twice,  thrice,  and  away ;"  up  he  went 
like  a  shuttlecock,  but  not  quite  up  to  the  ceiling. 

"Now,  boys,  with  a  will,"  cried  Walker,  "once, 
twice,  thrice,  and  away  !"  This  time  he  went  clean 
up,  and  kept  himself  from  touching  the  ceiling  with 
his  hand ;  and  so  again  a  third  time,  Avhen  he  was 
turned  out,  and  up  went  another  boy.  And  then  came 
Tom's  turn.  He  lay  quite  still,  by  East's  advice,  and 
didn't  dislike  the  "  once,  twice,  thrice ;"  but  the 
"  away  "  wasn't  so  pleasant.  They  were  in  good  wind 
now,  and  sent  him  slap  up  to  the  ceiling  first  time, 
against  which  his  knees  came  rather  sharply.  But  the 
moment's  pause  before  descending  was  the  rub,  the 
feeling  of  utter  helplessness,  and  of  leaving  his  whole 
inside  behind  him  sticking  to  the  ceiling.  Tom  was 
very  near  shouting  to  be  set  down  when  he  found  him- 
self back  in  the  blanket,  but  thought  of  East,  and 
didn't ;  and  so  took  his  three  tosses  without  a  kick  or 
a  cry,  and  was  called  a  young  trump  for  his  pains. 

He  and  East,  having  earned  it,  stood  now  looking 
on.  No  catastrophe  happened,  as  all  the  captives  were 
cool  hands,  and  didn't  struggle.  This  didn't  suit 
Flashman.  What  your  real  bully  likes  in  tossing,  is 
when  the  boys  kick  and  struggle,  or  hold  on  to  one 
side  of  the  blanket,  and  so  get  pitched  bodily  on  the 
floor;  it's  no  fun  to  him  when  no  one  is  hurt  or 
frightened. 


170  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Let's  toss  two  of  them  together,  Walker,"  sug- 
gested he. 

"What  a  cursed  bully  you  are,  Flashy!"  rejoined 
the  other.  "  Up  with  another  one." 

And  so  no  two  boys  were  tossed  together,  the  pecu- 
liar hardship  of  which  is,  that  it's  too  much  for  human 
nature  to  lie  still  then  and  share  troubles ;  and  so  the 
wretched  pair  of  small  boys  struggle  in  the  air  which 
shall  fall  a-top  in  the  descent,  to  the  no  small  risk  of 
both  falling  out  of  the  blanket,  and  the  huge  delight 
of  brutes  like  Flashman. 

But  now  there's  a  cry  that  the  praepostor  of  the 
room  is  coming ;  so  the  tossing  stops,  and  all  scat- 
ter to  their  different  rooms :  and  Tom  is  left  to  turn 
in,  with  the  first  day's  experience  of  a  public  school 
to  meditate  upon. 


CHAPTER   VII. 
SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR. 

Says  Giles,  "  'Tis  mortal  hard  to  go ; 

But  if  so  be's  I  must, 
I  means  to  follow  arter  he 

As  goes  hisself  the  fust." — Ballad. 

EVERYBODY,  I  suppose,  knows  the  dreamy  deli- 
cious state  in  which  one  lies  half  asleep,  half  awake, 
while  consciousness  begins  to  return,  after  a  sound 
night's  rest  in  a  new  place  which  we  are  glad  to  be 
in,  following  upon  a  day  of  unwonted  excitement  and 
exertion.  There  are  few  pleasanter  pieces  of  life. 
The  worst  of  it  is  that  they  last  such  a  short  time ; 
for,  nurse  them  as  you  will,  by  lying  perfectly  passive 
in  mind  and  body,  you  can't  make  more  than  five 
minutes  or  so  of  them.  After  which  time,  the  stupid, 
obtrusive,  wakeful  entity  which  we  call  'I,'  as  impa- 
tient as  he  is  stiif-necked,  spite  of  our  teeth  will  force 
himself  back  again,  and  take  possession  of  us  down  to 
our  very  toes. 

It  was  in  this  state  that  Master  Tom  lay  at  half-past 
seven  on  the  morning  following  the  day  of  his  arrival, 
and  from  his  clean  little  white  bed  watched  the  move- 
ments of  Bogle  (the  generic  name  by  which  the  suc- 

171 


172  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

cessive  shoeblacks  of  the  School-house  were  known), 
as  he  marched  round  from  bed  to  bed,  collecting  the 
dirty  shoes  and  boots,  and  depositing  clean  ones  in 
their  places. 

There  he  lay,  half  doubtful  as  to  where  exactly  in 
the  universe  he  was,  but  conscious  that  he  had  made 
a  step  in  life  which  he  had  been  anxious  to  make.  It 
was  only  just  light  as  he  looked  lazily  out  of  the  wide 
windows,  and  saw  the  tops  of  the  great  elms,  and  the 
rooks  circling  about,  and  cawing  remonstrances  to  the 
lazy  ones  of  their  commonwealth,  before  starting  in  a 
body  for  the  neighboring  ploughed  fields.  The  noise 
of  the  room-door  closing  behind  Bogle,  as  he  made  his 
exit  with  the  shoe-basket  under  his  arm,  roused  Tom 
thoroughly,  and  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  round 
the  room.  What  in  the  world  could  be  the  matter 
with  his  shoulders  and  loins  ?  He  felt  as  if  he  had 
been  severely  beaten  all  down  his  back,  the  natural 
result  of  his  performance  at  his  first  match.  He  drew 
up  his  knees  and  rested  his  chin  on  them,  and  went 
over  all  the  events  of  yesterday,  rejoicing  in  his  new 
life,  what  he  had  seen  of  it,  and  all  that  was  to  come. 

Presently  one  or  two  of  the  other  boys  roused  them- 
selves, and  began  to  sit  up  and  talk  to  one  another  in 
low  tones.  Then  East,  after  a  roll  or  two,  came  to  an 
anchor  also,  and,  nodding  to  Tom,  began  examining 
his  ankle. 

"  What  a  pull,"  said  he,  "  that  it's  lie-in-bed,  for  I 
shall  be  as  lame  as  a  tree,  I  think." 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  173 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  Sunday  lectures  had 
not  yet  been  established ;  so  that  nothing  but  break- 
fast intervened  between  bed  and  eleven  o'clock  chapel 
— a  gap  by  no  means  easy  to  fill  up :  in  fact,  though 
received  with  the  correct  amount  of  grumbling,  the 
first  lecture  instituted  by  the  Doctor  shortly  after- 
wards was  a  great  boon  to  the  School.  It  was  lie  in 
bed,  and  no  one  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  up,  especially 
in  rooms  where  the  sixth-form  boy  was  a  good-tem- 
pered fellow,  as  was  the  case  in  Tom's  room,  and 
allowed  the  small  boys  to  talk  and  laugh,  and  do 
pretty  much  what  they  pleased,  so  long  as  they  didn't 
disturb  him.  His  bed  was  a  bigger  one  than  the  rest, 
standing  in  the  corner  by  the  fireplace,  with  a  wash- 
ing-stand and  large  basin  by  the  side,  where  he  lay  in 
state,  with  his  white  curtains  tucked  in  so  as  to  form 
a  retiring  place:  an  awful  subject  of  contemplation 
to  Tom,  who  slept  nearly  opposite,  and  watched  the 
great  man  rouse  himself  and  take  a  book  from  under 
his  pillow,  and  begin  reading,  leaning  his  head  on  his 
hand,  and  turning  his  back  to  the  room.  Soon,  how- 
ever, a  noise  of  striving  urchins  arose,  and  muttered 
encouragements  from  the  neighboring  boys,  of — "  Go 
it,  Tadpole!"  "Now,  young  Green!"  "Haul  away 
his  blanket !"  "  Slipper  him  on  the  hands  !"  Young 
Green  and  little  Hall,  commonly  called  Tadpole,  from 
his  great  black  head  and  thin  legs,  slept  side  by  side 
far  away  by  the  door,  and  were  for  ever  playing  one 
another  tricks,  which  usually  ended,  as  on  this  morn- 


174  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

ing,  in  open  and  violent  collision  :  .and  now,  unmind- 
ful of  all  order  and  authority,  there  they  were,  each 
hauling  away  at  the  other's  bed-clothes  with  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other,  armed  with  a  slipper,  belaboring 
whatever  portion  of  the  body  of  his  adversary  came 
within  reach. 

"Hold  that  noise,  up  in  the  corner,"  called  out  the 
praepostor,  sitting  up  and  looking  round  his  curtains ; 
and  the  Tadpole  and  young  Green  sank  down  into 
their  disordered  beds,  and  then,  looking  at  his  watch, 
added  "  Hullo,  past  eight ! — whose  turn  for  hot 
water?" 

(Where  the  praepostor  was  particular  in  his  ablu- 
tions, the  fags  in  his  room  had  to  descend  in  turn 
to  the  kitchen,  and  beg  or  steal  hot  water  for  him ; 
and  often  the  custom  extended  further,  and  two  boys 
went  down  every  morning  to  get  a  supply  for  the 
whole  room.) 

"  East's  and  Tadpole's,"  answered  the  senior  fag, 
who  kept  the  rota. 

"I  can't  go,"  said  East;  "  I'm  dead  lame." 

"  Well,  be  quick,  some  of  you,  that's  all,"  said  the 
great  man,  as  he  turned  out  of  bed,  and  putting  on 
his  slippers,  went  out  into  the  great  passage  which 
runs  the  whole  length  of  the  bedrooms,  to  get  his 
Sunday  habiliments  out  of  his  portmanteau. 

"  Let  me  go  for  you,"  said  Tom  to  East,  "I  should 
like  it." 

"  Well,  thank'ee,  that's  a  good  fellow.      Just  pull 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.'  175 

on  your  trousers,  and  take  your  jug  and  mine.  Tad- 
pole will  show  you  the  way." 

And  so  Tom  and  the  Tadpole,  in  night-shirts  and 
trousers,  started  off  down-stairs,  and  through  "  Thos's 
hole,"  as  the  little  buttery,  where  candles  and  beer  and 
bread  and  cheese  were  served  out  at  night,  was  called; 
across  the  School-house  court,  down  a  long  passage, 
and  into  the  kitchen ;  where,  after  some  parley  with 
the  stalwart,  handsome  cook,  who  declared  that  she 
had  filled  a  dozen  jugs  already,  they  got  their  hot 
water,  and  returned  with  all  speed  and  great  caution. 
As  it  was,  they  narrowly  escaped  capture  by  some  pri- 
vateers from  the  fifth-form  rooms,  who  were  on  the 
look-out  for  the  hot-water  convoys,  and  pursued  them 
up  to  the  very  door  of  their  room,  making  them  spill 
half  their  load  in  the  passage.  "  Better  than  going 
down  again  though,"  Tadpole  remarked,  "as  we  should 
have  had  to  do,  if  those  beggars  had  caught  us." 

By  the  time  that  the  calling-over  bell  rang,  Tom 
and  his  new  comrades  were  all  down,  dressed  in  their 
best  clothes,  and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  answering 
"here"  to  his  name  for  the  first  time,  the  praepostor 
of  the  week  having  put  it  in  at  the  bottom  of  his  list. 
And  then  carne  breakfast,  and  a  saunter  about  the 
close  and  town  with  East,  whose  lameness  only  be- 
came severe  when  any  fagging  had  to  be  done.  And 
so  they  whiled  away  the  time  until  morning  chapel. 

It  was  a  fine  November  morning,  and  the  close  soon 
became  alive  with  boys  of  all  ages,  who  sauntered 


176  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

about  on  the  grass,  or  walked  round  the  gravel  walk, 
in  parties  of  two  or  three.  East,  still  doing  the  cice- 
rone, pointed  out  all  the  remarkable  characters  to  Tom 
as  they  passed :  Osbert,  who  could  throw  a  cricket- 
ball  from  the  little-side  ground  over  the  rook  trees 
to  the  Doctor's  wall ;  Gray,  who  had  got  the  Balliol 
scholarship,  and,  what  East  evidently  thought  of  much 
more  importance,  a  half-holiday  for  the  School  by  his 
success ;  Thorne,  who  had  run  ten  miles  in  two  min- 
utes over  the  hour ;  Black,  Avho  had  held  his  own 
against  the  cock  of  the  town  in  the  last  row  with  the 
louts ;  and  many  more  heroes,  who  then  and  there 
walked  about  and  Avere  worshipped,  all  trace  of  whom 
has  long  since  vanished  from  the  scene  of  their  fame ; 
and  the  fourth-form  boy  who  reads  their  names  rudely 
cut  out  on  the  old  hall  tables,  or  painted  upon  the  big 
side-cupboard  (if  hall  tables,  and  big  side-cupboards 
still  exist),  wonders  what  manner  of  boys  they  were. 
It  will  be  the  same  with  you  who  wonder,  my  sons, 
whatever  your  prowess  may  be,  in  cricket,  or  scholar- 
ship, or  football.  Two  or  three  years,  more  or  less, 
and  then  the  steadily  advancing,  blessed  wave  will 
pass  over  your  names  as  it  has  passed  over  ours. 
Nevertheless,  play  your  games  and  do  your  work 
manfully — see  only  that  that  be  done,  and  let  the  re- 
membrance of  it  take  care  of  itself. 

The  chapel-bell  began  to  ring  at  a  quarter  to  eleven, 
and  Tom  got  in  early  and  took  his  place  in  the  lowest 
row,  and  watched  all  the  other  boys  come  in  and  take 


THE  CHAPEL,  RUGBY 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  177 

tlieir  places,  filling  row  after  row  ;  and  tried  to  con- 
strue the  Greek  text  which  was  inscribed  over  the 
door  with  the  slightest  possible  success,  and  wondered 
which  of  the  masters,  who  walked  down  the  chapel 
and  took  their  seats  in  the  exalted  boxes  at  the  end, 
would  be  his  lord.  And  then  came  the  closing  of  the 
doors,  and  the  Doctor  in  his  robes  and  the  service, 
which,  however,  didn't  impress  him  much,  for  his  feel- 
ing of  wonder  and  curiosity  was  too  strong.  And  the 
boy  on  one  side  of  him  was  scratching  his  name  on 
the  oak  panelling  in  front,  and  he  couldn't  help  Avatch- 
ing  to  see  what  the  name  was,  and  whether  it  was  well 
scratched  ;  and  the  boy  on  the  other  side  went  to  sleep 
and  kept  falling  against  him ;  and  on  the  whole, 
though  many  boys  even  in  that  part  of  the  School 
were  serious  and  attentive,  the  general  atmosphere  was 
by  no  means  devotional ;  and  when  he  got  out  into  the 
close  again,  he  didn't  feel  at  all  comfortable,  or  as  if 
he  had  been  to  church. 

But  at  afternoon  chapel  it  was  quite  another  thing. 
He  had  spent  the  time  after  dinner  in  writing  home  to 
his  mother,  and  so  was  in  a  better  frame  of  mind  ;  and 
his  first  curiosity  was  over,  and  he  could  attend  more 
to  the  service.  As  the  hymn  after  the  prayers  was 
being  sung,  and  the  chapel  was  getting  a  little  dark, 
he  was  beginning  to  feel  that  he  had  been  really  wor- 
shipping. And  then  came  that  great  event  in  his,  as 
in  every  Rugby  boy's  life  of  that  day — the  first 
sermon  from  the  Doctor. 

12 


178  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

More  worthy  pens  than  mine  have  described  that 
scene.  The  oak  pulpit  standing  out  by  itself  above 
the  School  seats.  The  tall  gallant  form,  the  kindling 
eye,  the  voice,  now  soft  as  the  low  notes  of  a  flute, 
now  clear  and  stirring  as  the  call  of  the  light  infantry 
bugle,  of  him  who  stood  there  Sunday  after  Sunday, 
witnessing  and  pleading  for  his  Lord,  the  King  of 
righteousness  and  love  and  glory,  with  whose  spirit  he 
was  filled,  and  in  whose  power  he  spoke.  The  long 
lines  of  young  faces,  rising  tier  above  tier  down  the 
whole  length  of  the  chapel,  from  the  little  boy's  who 
had  just  left  his  mother  to  the  young  man's  who  was 
going  out  next  week  into  the  great  world  rejoicing  in 
his  strength.  It  was  a  great  arid  solemn  sight,  and 
never  more  so  than  at  this  time  of  year,  when  the  only 
lights  in  the  chapel  were  in  the  pulpit  arid  at  the  seats 
of  the  praepostors  of  the  week,  and  the  soft  twilight 
stole  over  the  rest  of  the  chapel,  deepening  into  dark- 
ness in  the  high  gallery  behind  the  organ. 

But  what  was  it  after  all  which  seized  and  held 
these  three  hundred  boys,  dragging  them  out  of  them- 
selves, willing  or  unwilling,  for  twenty  minutes,  on 
Sunday  afternoon  ?  True,  there  always  were  boys 
scattered  up  and  down  the  School,  who  in  heart  and 
head  were  worthy  to  hear  and  able  to  carry  away  the 
deepest  and  wisest  words  there  spoken.  But  these 
were  a  minority  always,  generally  a  very  small  one, 
often  so  small  a  one  as  to  be  countable  on  the  fingers 
of  your  hand.  What  was  it  that  moved  and  held  us, 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  179 

the  rest  of  the  three  hundred  reckless,  childish  boys, 
•who  feared  the  Doctor  with  all  our  hearts,  and  very 
little  besides  in  heaven  or  earth :  who  thought  more 
of  our  sets  in  the  School  than  of  the  Church  of  Christ, 
and  put  the  traditions  of  Rugby  and  the  public 
opinion  of  boys  in  our  daily  life  above  the  laws  of 
God  ?  We  couldn't  enter  into  half  that  we  heard  ;  we 
hadn't  the  knowledge  of  our  own  hearts  or  the  know- 
ledge of  one  another ;  and  little  enough  of  the  faith, 
hope,  and  love  needed  to  that  end.  But  we  listened, 
as  all  boys  in  their  better  moods  will  listen  (aye,  and 
men  too,  for  the  matter  of  that),  to  a  man  who  we  felt 
to  be,  with  all  his  heart  and  soul  and  strength,  striv- 
ing against  whatever  was  mean  and  unmanly  and  un- 
righteous in  our  little  world.  It  was  not  the  cold 
clear  voice  of  one  giving  advice  and  warning  from 
serene  heights  to  those  who  were  struggling  and  sin- 
ning below,  but  the  warm  living  voice  of  one  who  was 
fighting  for  us  and  by  our  sides,  and  calling  on  us  to 
help  him  and  ourselves  and  one  another.  And  so, 
wearily  and  little  by  little,  but  surely  and  steadily  on 
the  whole,  was  brought  home  to  the  young  boy,  for 
the  first  time,  the  meaning  of  his  life ;  that  it  was  no 
fool's  or  sluggard's  paradise  into  which  he  had  wan- 
dered by  chance,  but  a  battle-field  ordained  from  of 
old,  where  there  are  no  spectators,  but  the  youngest 
must  take  his  side,  and  the  stakes  are  life  and  death. 
And  he  who  roused  his  consciousness  in  them  showed 
them  at  the  same  time,  by  every  word  he  spoke  in  the 


180  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

pulpit,  and  by  his  whole  daily  life,  how  that  battle  was 
to  be  fought ;  and  stood  there  before  them  their  fellow- 
soldier  and  captain  of  their  band.  The  true  sort  of 
captain,  too,  for  a  boy's  army,  one  who  had  n?>  mis- 
givings and  gave  no  uncertain  word  of  command,  and, 
let  who  would  yield  or  make  a  truce,  would  fight  the 
fight  out  (so  every  boy  felt)  to  the  last  gasp  and  the 
last  drop  of  blood.  Other  sides  of  his  character  might 
take  hold  of  and  influence  boys  here  and  there,  but  it 
was  this  thoroughness  and  undaunted  courage  which 
more  than  anything  else  Avon  his  way  to  the  hearts  of 
the  great  mass  of  those  on  whom  he  left  his  mark,  and 
made  them  believe  first  in  him,  and  then  in  his  Master. 
It  was  this  quality  above  all  others  which  moved 
such  boys  as  our  hero,  who  had  nothing  whatever 
remarkable  about  him  except  excess  of  boyishness ;  by 
which  I  mean  animal  life  in  its  fullest  measure,  good 
nature  and  honest  impulses,  hatred  of  injustice  and 
meanness,  and  thoughtlessness  enough  to  sink  a  three- 
decker.  And  so,  during  the  next  two  yeai's,  in  which 
it  was  more  than  doubtful  whether  he  Avould  get  good 
or  evil  from  the  School,  and  before  any  steady  purpose 
or  principle  grew  up  in  him,  whatever  his  week's  sins 
and  shortcomings  might  have  been,  he  hardly  ever  left 
the  chapel  on  Sunday  evenings  without  a  serious  re- 
solve to  stand  by  and  follow  the  Doctor,  and  a  feeling 
that  it  was  only  cowardice  (the  incarnation  of  all  other 
sins  in  such  a  boy's  mind)  which  hindered  him  from 
doing  so  with  all  his  heart. 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAE.  181 

The  next  day  Tom  was  duly  placed  in  the  third 
form,  and  began  his  lessons  in  a  corner  of  the  big 
School.  He  found  the  work  very  easy,  as  he  had  been 
well  grounded,  and  knew  his  Grammar  by  heart ;  and, 
as  he  had  no  intimate  companion  to  make  him  idle 
(East  and  his  other  School-house  friends  being  in  the 
lower  fourth,  the  form  above  him),  soon  gained  golden 
opinions  from  his  master,  who  said  he  was  placed  too 
low,  and  should  be  put  out  at  the  end  of  the  half-year. 
So  all  went  well  with  him  in  School,  and  he  wrote  the 
most  nourishing  letters  home  to  his  mother,  full  of  his 
success  and  the  unspeakable  delights  of  a  public 
school. 

In  the  house,  too,  all  went  well.  The  end  of  the 
half-year  was  drawing  near,  which  kept  everybody  in 
a  good  humour,  arid  the  house  was  ruled  well  arid 
strongly  by  Warner  and  Brooke.  True,  the  general 
system  was  rough  and  hard,  and  there  was  bullying  in 
nooks  and  corners,  bad  signs  for  the  future  ;  but  it 
never  got  further,  or  dared  show  itself  openly,  stalk- 
ing about  the  passages  and  hall  and  bedrooms,  and 
making  the  life  of  the  small  boys  a  continual  fear. 

Tom,  as  a  new  boy,  was  of  right  excused  fagging 
for  the  first  month,  but  in  his  enthusiasm  for  his  new- 
life  this  privilege  hardly  pleased  him;  and  East  and 
others  of  his  young  friends  discovering  this,  kindly 
allowed  him  to  indulge  his  fancy,  and  take  their  turns 
at  night  fagging  and  cleaning  studies.  These  were 
the  principal  duties  of  the  fags  in  the  house.  From 


182  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

supper  until  nine  o'clock,  three  fags  taken  in  order 
stood  in  the  passages,  and  answered  any  praepostor 
who  called  Fag,  racing  to  the  door,  the  last  comer 
having  to  do  the  work.  This  consisted  generally  of 
going  to  the  buttery  for  beer  and  bread  and  cheese 
(for  the  great  men  did  not  sup  with  the  rest,  but  had 
each  his  own  allowance  in  his  study  or  the  fifth-form 
room),  cleaning  candle-sticks  and  putting  in  new 
candles,  toasting  cheese,  bottling  beer,  and  carrying 
messages  about  the  house ;  and  Tom,  in  the  first  blush 
of  his  hero-worship,  felt  it  a  high  privilege  to  receive 
orders  from,  and  be  the  bearer  of,  the  supper  of  old 
Brooke.  And  besides  this  night-work,  each  praepostor 
had  three  or  four  fags  specially  allotted  to  him,  of 
whom  he  was  supposed  to  be  the  guide,  philosopher, 
and  friend,  and  who  in  return  for  these  good  offices 
had  to  clean  out  his  study  every  morning  by  turns, 
directly  after  first  lesson  and  before  he  returned  from 
breakfast.  And  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  great  men's 
studies,  and  looking  at  their  pictures,  and  peeping 
into  their  books,  made  Tom  a  ready  substitute  for  any 
boy  who  was  too  lazy  to  do  his  own  work.  And  so  he 
soon  gained  the  character  of  a  goodnatured  willing 
fellow,  who  was  ready  to  do  a  turn  for  any  one. 

In  all  the  games  too  he  joined  with  all  his  heart 
and  soon  became  well  versed  in  all  the  mysteries  of 
football,  by  continued  practice  at  the  School-house 
little-side,  which  played  daily. 

The  only  incident  worth   recording  here,  however, 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  183 

was  his  first  run  at  Hare-and-hounds.  On  the  last 
Tuesday  but  one  of  the  half-year  he  was  passing 
through  the  Hall  after  dinner,  when  he  was  hailed 
with  shouts  from  Tadpole  and  several  other  fags  seated 
at  one  of  the  long  tables,  the  chorus  of  which  was 
"  Come  and  help  us  tear  up  scent." 

Tom  approached  the  table  in  obedience  to  the  mys- 
terious summons,  always  ready  to  help,  and  found  the 
party  engaged  in  tearing  up  old  newspapers,  copy- 
books, and  magazines,  into  small  pieces,  with  which 
they  were  filling  four  large  canvas  bags. 

"  It's  the  turn  of  our  house  to  find  scent  for  big-side 
Hare-and-hounds,"  exclaimed  Tadpole  ;  "  tear  away, 
there's  no  time  to  lose  before  calling-over." 

"  I  think  it's  a  great  shame,"  said  another  small 
boy,  "to  have  such  a  hard  run  for  the  last  day." 

"  Which  run  is  it?"  said  Tadpole. 

"  Oh,  the  Barby  run,  I  hear,"  answered  the  other  : 
"  nine  miles  at  least,  and  hard  ground ;  no  chance  of 
getting  in  at  the  finish,  unless  you're  a  first-rate  scud." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  have  a  try,"  said  Tadpole; 
"  it's  the  last  run  of  the  half,  and  if  a  fellow  gets  in 
at  the  end.  big-side  stands  ale  and  bread  and  cheese, 
and  a  bowl  of  punch  ;  and  the  Cock's  such  a  famous 
place  for  ale." 

"  I  should  like  to  try  too,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well  then,  leave  your  waistcoat  behind,  and  listen 
at  the  door,  after  calling-over,  and  you'll  hear  where 
the  meet  is." 


184  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

After  calling-over,  sure  enough,  there  were  two 
boys  at  the  door,  calling  out,  "Big-side  Hare-and- 
hounds  meet  at  White  Hall  ;"  and  Tom,  having 
girded  himself  with  leather  strap,  and  left  all  super- 
fluous clothing  behind,  set  off  for  White  Hall,  an  old 
gable-ended  house  some  quarter  of  a  mile  from  town, 
with  East,  whom  he  had  persuaded  to  join,  notwith- 
standing his  prophecy  that  they  could  never  get  in,  as 
it  was  the  hardest  run  of  the  year. 

At  the  meet  they  found  some  forty  or  fifty  boys, 
and  Tom  felt  sure,  from  having  seen  many  of  them 
run  at  football,  that  he  and  East  were  more  likely  to 
get  in  than  they. 

After  a  few  minutes'  waiting,  two  well-known  run- 
ners, chosen  for  the  hares,  buckled  on  the  four  bags 
filled  with  scent,  compared  their  watches  with  those  of 
young  Brooke  and  Thorne,  and  started  off  at  a  long 
slinging  trot  across  the  fields  in  the  direction  of 
Bar  by. 

Then  the  hounds  clustered  round  Thorne,  who  ex- 
plained shortly,  "  They're  to  have  six  minutes'  law. 
We  run  into  the  Cock,  and  every  one  who  comes  in 
within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  the  hares  '11  be  count- 
ed, if  he  has  been  round  Barby  church."  Then  came 
a  minute's  pause  or  so,  and  then  the  watches  are  pock- 
eted, and  the  pack  is  led  through  the  gateway  into  the 
field  which  the  hares  had  first  crossed.  Here  they 
break  into  a  trot,  scattering  over  the  field  to  find  the 
first  traces  of  the  scent  which  the  hares  throw  out  as 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAE.  185 

they  go  along.  The  old  hounds  make  straight  for  the 
likely  points,  and  in  a  minute  a  cry  of  "forward" 
comes  from  one  of  them,  and  the  whole  pack  quicken- 
ing their  pace  make  for  the  spot,  while  the  boy  who 
hit  the  scent  first  and  the  two  or  three  nearest  to  him 
are  over  the  first  fence,  and  making  play  along  the 
hedgerow  in  the  long  grass-field  beyond.  The  rest  of 
the  pack  rush  at  the  gap  already  made,  and  scramble 
through,  jostling  one  another.  "Forward"  again, 
before  they  are  half  through  ;  the  pace  quickens  into 
a  sharp  run,  the  tail  hounds  all  straining  to  get  up 
with  the  lucky  leaders.  They  are  gallant  hares,  and 
the  scent  lies  thick  right  across  another  meadow  and 
into  a  ploughed  field,  where  the  pace  begins  to  tell ; 
and  then  over  a  good  Avattle  with  a  ditch  on  the  other 
side,  and  down  a  large  pasture  studded  with  old 
thorns,  which  slopes  down  to  the  first  brook ;  the 
great  Leicestershire  sheep  charge  away  across  the  field 
as  the  pack  comes  racing  down  the  slope.  The  brook 
is  a  small  one,  and  the  scent  lies  right  ahead  up  the 
opposite  slope,  and  as  thick  as  ever  ;  not  a  turn  or  a 
check  to  favor  the  tail  hounds,  who  strain  on,  now 
trailing  in  a  long  line,  many  a  youngster  beginning  to 
drag  his  legs  heavily,  and  feel  his  heart  beat  like  a 
hammer,  and  the  bad  plucked  ones  thinking  that  after 
all  it  isn't  worth  while  to  keep  it  up. 

Tom,  East,  and  the  Tadpole  had  a  good  start,  and 
are  well  up  for  such  young  hands,  and  after  rising  the 
slope  and  crossing  the  next  field,  find  themselves  up 


186  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS. 

with  the  leading  hounds,  who  have  over-run  the  scent 
and  are  trying  back  ;  they  have  come  a  mile  and  a 
half  in  about  eleven  minutes,  a  pace  which  shows  that 
it  is  the  last  day.  About  twenty-five  of  the  original 
starters  only  show  here,  the  rest  having  already  given 
in  ;  the  leaders  are  busy  making  casts  into  the  fields 
on  the  left  and  right,  and  the  others  get  their  second 
winds. 

Then  comes  the  cry  of  "  forward "  again,  from 
young  Brooke,  from  the  extreme  left,  and  the  pack 
settles  down  to  work  again  steadily  and  doggedly,  the 
whole  keeping  pretty  well  together.  The  scent, 
though  still  good,  is  not  so  thick ;  there  is  no  need  of 
that,  for  in  this  part  of  the  run  every  one  knows  the 
line  which  must  be  taken,  and  so  there  are  no  casts  to 
be  made,  but  good  downright  running  and  fencing  to 
be  done.  All  who  are  now  up  mean  coming  in,  and 
they  come  to  the  foot  of  Barby  Hill  without  losing 
more  than  two  or  three  more  of  the  pack.  This  last 
straight  two  miles  and  a  half  is  always  a  vantage 
ground  for  the  hounds,  and  the  hares  know  it  well ; 
they  are  generally  viewed  on  the  side  of  Barby  Hill, 
and  all  eyes  are  on  the  look-out  for  them  to-day.  But 
not  a  sign  of  them  appears,  so  now  will  be  the  hard 
work  for  the  hounds,  and  there  is  nothing  for  it  but 
to  cast  about  for  the  scent,  for  it  is  now  the  hare's 
turn,  and  they  may  baffle  the  pack  dreadfully  in  the 
next  two  miles. 

Ill  fares  it  now  with  our  youngsters  that  they  are 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  187 

School-house  boys,  and  so  follow  young  Brooke,  for  he 
takes  the  wide  casts  round  to  the  left,  conscious  of  his 
own  powers,  and  loving  the  hard  work.  For  if  you 
would  consider  for  a  moment,  you  small  boys,  you 
would  remember  that  the  Cock,  where  the  run  ends, 
and  the  good  ale  will  be  going,  lies  far  out  to  the  right 
on  the  Dunchurch  road,  so  that  every  cast  you  take  to 
the  left  is  so  much  extra  work.  And  at  this  stage  of 
the  run,  when  the  evening  is  closing  in  already,  no  one 
remarks  whether  you  run  a  little  cunning  or  not,  so 
you  should  stick  to  those  crafty  hounds  who  keep  edg- 
ing away  to  the  right,  and  not  follow  a  prodigal  like 
young  Brooke,  whose  legs  are  twice  as  long  as  yours 
and  of  cast-iron,  wholly  indifferent  to  two  or  three 
miles  more  or  less.  However,  they  struggle  after  him, 
sobbing  and  plunging  along,  Tom  and  East  pretty 
close,  and  Tadpole,  whose  big  head  begins  to  pull  him 
down,  some  thirty  yards  behind. 

Now  comes  a  brook,  with  stiff  clay  banks,  from 
which  they  can  hardly  drag  their  legs,  and  they  hear 
faint  cries  for  help  from  the  wretched  Tadpole,  who 
has  fairly  stuck  fast.  But  they  have  too  little  run  left 
in  themselves  to  pull  up  for  their  own  brothers.  Three 
fields  more,  and  another  check,  and  then  "forward" 
called  away  to  the  extreme  right. 

The  two  boys'  souls  die  within  them  ;  they  can 
never  do  it.  Young  Brooke  thinks  so  too,  and  says 
kindly,  "  You'll  cross  a  lane  after  next  field,  keep 
down  it,  and  you'll  hit  the  Dunchurch  road  below  the 


188  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Cock,"  and  then  steams  away  for  the  run  in,  in  which 
he's  sure  to  be  first,  as  if  he  were  just  starting.  They 
struggle  on  across  the  next  field,  the  "forwards"  get- 
ting fainter  and  fainter,  and  then  ceasing.  The 
whole  hunt  is  out  of  ear-shot,  and  all  hope  of  coming 
in  is  over. 

"Hang  it  all !"  broke  out  East,  as  soon  as  he  had 
got  wind  enough,  pulling  off  his  hat  and  mopping  at 
his  face,  all  spattered  with  dirt  and  lined  with  sweat, 
from  which  went  up  a  thick  steam  into  the  still  cold 
air.  "  I  told  you  how  it  would  be.  What  a  thick 
I  was  to  come !  Here  we  are  dead  beat,  and  yet 
I  know  we're  close  to  the  run  in,  if  we  knew  the 
country." 

"Well,"  said  Tom  mopping  away,  and  gulpin» 
down  his  disappointment,  "  it  can't  be  helped.  We 
did  our  best  anyhow.  Hadn't  we  better  find  this 
lane,  and  go  down  it,  as  young  Brooke  told  us?" 

"I  suppose  so — nothing  else  for  it,"  grunted  East. 
"If  ever  I  go  out  last  day  again,"  growl — growl — 
growl. 

So  they  tried  back  slowly  and  sorrowfully,  and 
found  the  lane,  and  went  limping  down  it,  plashing  in 
the  cold  puddly  ruts,  and  beginning  to  feel  how  the 
run  had  taken  it  out  of  them.  The  evening  closed  in 
fast,  and  clouded  over,  dark,  cold,  and  dreary,- 

"I  say,  it  must  be  locking-up,  I  should  think," 
remarked  East,  breaking  the  silence  ;  "  it's  so  dark." 

"What  if  we're  late?"  said  Tom. 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  189 

"No  tea,  and  sent  up  to  the  Doctor,"  answered 
East. 

The  thought  didn't  add  to  their  cheerfulness.  Pre- 
sently a  faint  halloo  was  heard  from  an  adjoining  field. 
They  answered  it  and  stopped,  hoping  for  some  compe- 
tent rustic  to  guide  them,  when  over  a  gate  some 
twenty  yards  ahead  crawled  the  wretched  Tadpole,  in 
a  state  of  collapse;  he  had  lost  a  shoe  in  the  brook, 
and  been  groping  after  it  up  to  his  elbow  in  the  stiff 
wet  clay,  and  a  more  miserable  creature  in  the  shape 
of  boy  seldom  has  been  seen. 

The  sight  of  him,  notwithstanding,  cheered  them, 
for  he  was  some  degrees  more  wretched  than  they. 
They  also  cheered  him,  as  he  was  now  no  longer  under 
the  dread  of  passing  his  night  alone  in  the  fields. 
And  so  in  better  heart,  the  three  plashed  painfully 
down  the  never-ending  lane.  At  last  it  widened,  just 
as  utter  darkness  set  in,  and  they  come  out  on  to  a 
turnpike-road,  and  there  paused,  bewildered,  for  they 
had  lost  all  bearings,  and  knew  not  Avhether  to  turn  to 
the  right  or  left. 

Luckily  for  them  they  had  not  to  decide,  for  lum- 
bering along  the  road,  with  one  lamp  lighted,  and  two 
spavined  horses  in  the  shafts,  came  a  heavy  coach, 
which  after  a  moment's  suspense  they  recognised  as 
the  Oxford  coach,  the  redoubtable  Pig  and  Whistle. 

It  lumbered  slowly  up,  and  the  boys  mustering 
their  last  run,  caught  it  as  it  passed,  and  began 
scrambling  up  behind,  in  which  exploit  East  missed 


190  TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

his  footing  and  fell  flat  on  his  nose  along  the  road. 
Then  the  others  hailed  the  old  scarecrow  of  a  coach- 
man, who  pulled  by  and  agreed  to  take  them  in  for  a 
shilling ;  so  there  they  sat  on  the  back  seat,  drubbing 
with  their  heels,  and  their  teeth  chattering  with  cold, 
and  jogged  into  Rugby  some  forty  minutes  after  lock- 
ing-up. 

Five  minutes  afterwards,  three  small  limping  shiv- 
ering figures  steal  along  through  the  Doctor's  garden, 
and  into  the  house  by  the  servants'  entrance  (all  the 
other  gates  have  been  closed  long  since),  where  the 
first  thing  they  light  upon  in  the  passage  is  old 
Thomas,  ambling  along,  candle  in  one  hand  and  keys 
in  the  other. 

He  stops  and  examines  their  condition  with  a  grim 
smile.  "Ah!  East,  Hall,  and  Brown,  late  for  lock- 
up. Must  go  up  to  the  Doctor's  study  at  once." 

"  Well  but,  Thomas,  mayn't  we  go  and  wash  first  ? 
You  can  put  down  the  time,  you  know." 

"  Doctor's  study  d'recly  you  come  in — that's  the 
orders,"  replied  old  Thomas,  motioning  towards  the 
stairs  at  the  end  of  the  passage  which  led  up  into  the 
Doctor's  house ;  and  the  boys  turned  ruefully  down 
it,  not  cheered  by  the  old  verger's  muttered  remark, 
"  What  a  pickle  they  boys  be  in  !"  Thomas  referred 
to  their  faces  and  habiliments,  but  they  construed  it 
as  indicating  the  Doctor's  state  of  mind.  Upon  the 
short  flight  of  stairs  they  paused  to  hold  counsel. 

"Who'll  go  in  first?"  inquires  Tadpole. 


HEAD-MASTER'S   HOUSE,  RUGBY 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  191 

"You — you're  the  senior,"  answered  East. 

"  Catch  me — look  at  the  state  I'm  in,"  rejoined 
Hall,  showing  the  arms  of  his  jacket.  "I  must  get 
behind  you  two." 

"Well,  but  look  at  me,"  said  East,  indicating  the 
mass  of  clay  behind  which  he  was  standing :  "  I'm 
worse  than  you,  two  to  one ;  you  might  grow  cab- 
bages on  my  trousers." 

"  That's  all  down  below,  and  you  can  keep  your 
legs  behind  the  sofa,"  said  Hall. 

"  Here,  Brown,  you're  the  show-figure — you  must 
lead." 

"But  my  face  is  all  muddy,"  argued  Tom. 

"  Oh,  we're  all  in  one  boat  for  that  matter :  but 
come  on,  we're  only  making  it  worse,  dawdling  here." 

"  Well,  just  give  us  a  brush  then,"  said  Tom  ;  and 
they  began  trying  to  rub  off'  the  superfluous  dirt  from 
each  other's  jackets,  but  it  was  not  dry  enough,  and 
the  rubbing  made  it  worse ;  so  in  despair  they  pushed 
through  the  swing  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and 
found  themselves  in  the  Doctor's  hall.  , 

"  That's  the  library  door,"  said  East  in  a  whisper, 
pushing  Tom  forwards.  The  sound  of  merry  voices 
and  laughing  came  from  within,  and  his  first  hesitat- 
ing knock  was  unanswered.  But  at  the  second,  the 
Doctor's  voice  said  "  Corne  in,"  and  Tom  turned  the 
handle,  and  he,  with  the  others  behind  him,  sidled 
into  the  room. 

The  Doctor  looked  up  from  his  task  ;  he  was  work- 


192  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

ing  away  with  a  great  chisel  at  the  bottom  of  a  boy's 
sailing  boat,  the  lines  of  which  he  was  no  doubt  fash- 
ioning on  the  model  of  one  of  Nicias'  galleys.  Round 
him  stood  three  or  four  children  ;  the  candles  burnt 
brightly  on  a  large  table  at  the  further  end  covered 
with  books  and  papers,  and  a  great  fire  threw  a  ruddy 
glow  over  the  rest  of  the  room.  All  looked  so  kindly, 
and  homely,  and  comfortable,  that  the  boys  took  heart 
in  a  moment,  and  Tom  advanced  from  behind  the 
shelter  of  the  great  sofa.  The  Doctor  nodded  to  the 
children,  who  went  out,  casting  curious  and  amused 
glances  at  the  three  young  scarecrows. 

"Well,  my  little  fellows,"  began  the  Doctor,  draw- 
ing himself  up  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  the  chisel  in 
one  hand  and  his  coat-tails  in  the  other,  and  his  eyes 
twinkling  as  he  looked  them  over ;  "  what  makes  you 
so  late?" 

"  Please,  sir,  we've  been  out  Big-side  Hare-and- 
hounds,  and  lost  our  way." 

"  Hah  !  you  couldn't  keep  up,  I  suppose?" 

"Well,  sir,"  said  East,  stepping  out,  and  not  liking 
that  the  Doctor  should  think  lightly  of  his  running 
powers,  "  we  got  round  Barby  all  right,  but  then — 

"Why.  what  a  state  you're  in,  my  boy!"  inter- 
rupted the  Doctor,  as  the  pitiful  condition  of  East's 
garments  was  fully  revealed  to  him. 

"  That's  the  fall  I  got,  sir,  in  the  road,"  said  East, 
looking  down  at  himself;  "  The  Old  Pig  came  by — " 

"The  what?"  said  the  Doctor. 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  193 

"  The  Oxford  coach,  sir,"  explained  Hall. 

"  Hah  !  yes,  the  Regulator,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  And  I  tumbled  on  rny  face  trying  to  get  up  be- 
hind," went  on  East. 

"  You're  not  hurt,  I  hope  ?"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Oh  no,  sir." 

"  Well  now,  run  up-stairs,  all  three  of  you,  and  get 
clean  things  on,  and  then  tell  the  housekeeper  to  give 
you  some  tea.  You're  too  young  to  try  such  long  runs. 
Let  Warner  know  I've  seen  you.  Good  night." 

"  Good  night,  sir."  And  away  scuttled  the  three 
boys  in  high  glee. 

"  What  a  brick,  not  to  give  us  even  twenty  lines 
to  learn  !"  said  the  Tadpole,  as  they  reached  their 
bed-room ;  and  in  half-an-hour  afterwards  they  were 
sitting  by  the  fire  in  the  housekeeper's  room  at  a 
sumptuous  tea,  with  cold  meat,  "  twice  as  good  a 
grub  as  we  should  have  got  in  the  hall,"  as  the  Tad- 
pole remarked,  with  a  grin,  his  mouth  full  of  but- 
tered toast.  All  their  grievances  were  forgotten,  and 
they  were  resolving  to  go  out  the  first  big-side  next 
half,  and  thinking  Hare-and-hounds  the  most  delight- 
ful of  games. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  the  great  passage  outside 
the  bedrooms  was  cleared  of  the  boxes  and  portman- 
teaus, which  went  down  to  be  packed  by  the  matron, 
and  great  games  of  chariot-racing,  and  cock-fighting, 
and  bolstering,  went  on  in  the  vacant  space,  the  sure 
sign  of  a  closing  half-year. 

13 


194  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Then  came  the  making-up  of  parties  for  the  jour- 
ney home,  and  Tom  joined  a  party  who  were  to  hire 
a  coach,  and  post  with  four  horses  to  Oxford. 

Then  the  last  Saturday,  on  which  the  Doctor  came 
round  to  each  form  to  give  out  the  prizes,  and  hear 
the  masters'  last  reports  of  how  they  and  their  charges 
had  been  conducting  themselves  ;  and  Tom,  to  his  huge 
delight,  has  praised,  and  got  his  remove  into  the  lower- 
fourth,  in  which  all  his  School-house  friends  were. 

On  the  next  Tuesday  morning,  at  four  o'clock,  hot 
coffee  was  going  on  in  the  housekeeper's  and  matron's 
rooms ;  boys  wrapped  in  great  coats  and  mufflers  were 
swallowing  hasty  mouthfuls,  rushing  about,  tumbling 
over  luggage,  and  asking  questions  all  at  once  of  the 
matron  ;  outside  the  School-gates  were  drawn  up  sev- 
eral chaises  and  the  four-horse  coach  which  Tom's 
party  had  chartered,  the  post-boys  in  their  best  jack- 
ets and  breeches,  and  a  cornopean  player,  hired  for 
the  occasion,  blowing  away  "A  southerly  wind  and  a 
cloudy  sky,"  waking  all  peaceful  inhabitants  half-way 
down  the  High  Street. 

Every  minute  the  bustle  and  hubbub  increased, 
porters  staggered  about  with  boxes  and  bags,  the 
cornopean  played  louder.  Old  Thomas  sat  in  his  den 
with  a  great  yellow  bag  by  his  side,  out  of  which  he 
was  paying  journey  money  to  each  boy,  comparing 
by  the  light  of  a  solitary  dip  the  dirty  crabbed  little 
list  in  his  own  handwriting  with  the  Doctor's  list, 
and  the  amount  of  his  cash ;  his  head  was  on  one 


SETTLING   TO  THE  COLLAR.  195 

side,  his  rnouth  screwed  up,  and  his  spectacles  dim 
from  early  toil.  He  had  prudently  locked  the  door, 
and  carried  on  his  operations  solely  through  the  win- 
dow, or  he  would  have  been  driven  wild,  and  lost  all 
his  money. 

"  Thomas,  do  be  quick,  we  shall  never  catch  the 
Highflyer  at  Dunchurch." 

"  That's  your  money,  all  right,   Green." 

"Hullo,  Thomas,  the  Doctor  said  I  was  to  have 
two-pound-ten;  you've  only  given  me  two  pound." — 
I  fear  that  Master  Green  is  not  confining  himself 
strictly  to  truth. — Thomas  turns  his  head  more  one 
side  than  ever,  and  spells  away  at  the  dirty  list. 
Green  is  forced  away  from  the  window. 

"  Here,  Thomas,  never  mind  him,  mine's  thirty  shil- 
lings." "And  mine  too,"  "  and  mine,"  shouted  others. 

One  way  or  another,  the  party  to  which  Tom  be- 
longed got  packed  and  paid,  and  sallied  out  to  the 
gates,  the  cornopean  playing  frantically  "  Drops  of 
Brandy,"  in  allusion,  probably,  to  the  slight  pota- 
tions in  which  the  musician  and  post-boys  had  been 
already  indulging.  All  luggage  was  carefully  stowed 
away  inside  the  coach  and  in  front  and  hind  boots, 
so  that  not  a  hat-box  was  visible  outside.  Five  or 
six  small  boys,  with  pea-shooters,  and  the  cornopean 
player  got  up  behind ;  in  front  the  big  boys,  mostly 
smoking,  not  for  pleasure,  but  because  they  are  now 
gentlemen  at  large — and  this  is  the  most  correct  pub- 
lic method  of  notifying  the  fact. 


196  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Robinson's  coach  will  be  down  the  road  in  a 
minute ;  it  has  gone  up  to  Bird's  to  pick  up, — we'll 
wait  till  they're  close,  and  make  a  race  of  it,"  says 
the  leader.  "  Now,  boys,  half-a-sovereign  apiece  if 
you  beat  'em  into  Dunchurch  by  one  hundred  yards." 

"All  right,  sir,"  shouted  the  grinning  post-boys. 

Down  comes  Robinson's  coach  in  a  minute  or  two 
with  a  rival  cornopean,  and  away  go  the  two  vehicles, 
horses  galoping,  boys  cheering,  horns  playing  loud. 
There  is  a  special  Providence  over  school-boys  as  well 
as  sailors,  or  they  must  have  upset  twenty  times  in  the 
first  five  miles ;  sometimes  actually  abreast  of  one 
another,  and  the  boys  on  the  roofs  exchanging  vol- 
leys of  peas,  now  nearly  running  over  a  post-chaise 
which  had  started  before  them,  now  half-way  up  a 
bank,  now  with  a  wheel-and-a-half  over  a  yawning 
ditch ;  and  all  this  in  a  dark  morning,  with  nothing 
but  their  own  lamps  to  guide  them.  However,  it's  all 
over  at  last,  and  they  have  run  over  nothing  but  an 
old  pig  in  Southam  Street ;  the  last  peas  are  distrib- 
uted in  the  Corn  Market  at  Oxford,  where  they  arrive 
between  eleven  and  twelve,  and  sit  down  to  a  sump- 
tuous breakfast  at  the  Angel,  Avhich  they  are  made  to 
pay  for  accordingly.  Here  the  party  breaks  up,  all 
going  now  different  ways ;  and  Tom  orders  out  a 
chaise  and  pair  as  grand  as  a  lord,  though  he  has 
scarcely  five  shillings  left  in  his  pocket  and  more 
than  twenty  miles  to  get  home. 

"Where  to,  sir?" 


SETTLING  TO  THE  COLLAR.  197 

"Red  Lion,  Farringdon,"  says  Tom,  giving  ostler 
a  shilling. 

"All  right,  sir.  Red  Lion,  Jem,"  to  the  post-boy, 
and  Tom  rattles  away  towards  home.  At  Farring- 
don, being  known  to  the  innkeeper,  he  gets  that  wor- 
thy to  pay  for  the  Oxford  horses,  and  forward  him  in 
another  chaise  at  once ;  and  so  the  gorgeous  young 
gentleman  arrives  at  the  paternal  mansion,  and  Squire 
Brown  looks  rather  blue  at  having  to  pay  two-pound 
ten-shillings  for  the  posting  expenses  from  Oxford. 
But  the  boy's  intense  joy  at  getting  home,  and  the 
wonderful  health  he  is  in,  and  the  good  character  he 
brings,  and  the  brave  stories  he  tells  of  Rugby,  its 
doings  and  delights,  soon  mollify  the  Squire,  and  three 
happier  people  didn't  sit  down  to  dinner  that  day  in 
England  (it  is  the  boy's  first  dinner  at  six  o'clock  at 
home,  great  promotion  already),  than  the  Squire  and 
his  wife  and  Torn  Brown  at  the  end  of  his  first  half- 
year  at  Rugby. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 

"They  are  slaves  who  will  not  choose 
Hatred,  scoffing,  and  abuse, 
Bather  than  in  silence  shrink 
From  the  truth  they  needs  must  think : 
They  are  slaves  who  dare  not  he 
In  the  right  with  two  or  three." 

LOWELL,  Stanzas  on  Freedom. 

THE  lower-fourth  form,  in  which  Tom  found  him- 
self at  the  beginning  of  the  next  half-year,  was  the 
largest  form  in  the  lower  school,  and  numbered  up- 
wards of  forty  boys.  Young  gentlemen  of  all  ages 
from  nine  to  fifteen,  were  to  be  found  there,  who 
expended  such  part  of  their  energies  as  was  devoted 
to  Latin  and  Greek  upon  a  book  of  Livy,  the  Buco- 
lics of  Virgil,  and  the  Hecuba  of  Euripides,  which 
were  ground  out  in  small  daily  portions.  The  driving 
of  this  unlucky  lower-fourth  must  have  been  grievous 
work  to  the  unfortunate  master,  for  it  Avas  the  most 
unhappily  constituted  of  any  in  the  school.  Here 
stuck  the  great  stupid  boys,  who  for  the  life  of  them 
could  never  master  the  accidence;  the  objects  alter- 
nately of  mirth  and  terror  to  the  youngsters,  who 

198 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  199 

Avere  daily  taking  them  up  and  laughing  at  them  in 
lesson,  and  getting  kicked  by  them  for  so  doing  in 
play-hours.  There  Avere  no  less  than  three  unhappy 
felloAvs  in  tail  coats,  Avith  incipient  doAvn  on  their  chins, 
Avhom  the  Doctor  and  the  master  of  the  form  were 
ahvays  endeavoring  to  hoist  into  the  upper  school, 
but  Avhose  parsing  and  construing  resisted  the  most 
Avell-rneant  shoves.  Then  came  the  mass  of  the  form, 
boys  of  eleven  and  tAvelve,  the  most  mischievous  and 
reckless  age  of  British  youth,  of  Avhom  East  and  Tom 
BroAvn  were  fair  specimens.  As  full  of  tricks  as  mon- 
keys, and  of  excuses  as  Irish  Avomen,  making  fun  of 
their  master,  one  another,  and  their  lessons,  Argus 
himself  Avould  have  been  puzzled  to  keep  an  eye  on 
them  ;  and  as  for  making  them  steady  or  serious  for 
half-an-hour  together,  it  Avas  simply  hopeless.  The 
remainder  of  the  form  consisted  of  young  prodigies 
of  nine  and  ten,  Avho  were  going  up  the  school  at  the 
rate  of  a  form  a  half-year,  all  boys'  hands  and  wits 
being  against  them  in  their  progress.  It  Avould  have 
been  one  man's  Avork  to  see  that  the  precocious  young- 
sters had  fair  play  ;  and  as  the  master  had  a  good  deal 
besides  to  do,  they  hadn't,  and  Avere  for  ever  being 
shoved  down  three  or  four  places,  their  verses  stolen, 
their  books  inked,  their  jackets  Avhitened,  and  their 
lives  otherAvise  made  a  burden  to  them. 

The  loAver-fourth,  and  all  the  forms  below  it,  Avere 
heard  in  the  great  school,  and  Avere  not  trusted  to  pre- 
pare their  lessons  before  coming  in,  but  were  whipped 


200  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

into  school  three-quarters  of  an  hour  before  the  lesson 
began  by  their  respective  masters,  and  there  scattered 
about  on  the  benches,  with  dictionary  and  grammar 
hammered  out  their  twenty  lines  of  Virgil  and  Euri- 
pides in  the  midst  of  Babel.  The  masters  of  the 
lower  school  walked  up  and  down  the  great  school 
together  during  this  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  or  sat 
in  their  desks  reading  or  looking  over  copies,  and 
keeping  such  order  as  was  possible.  But  the  lower- 
fourth  was  just  now  an  overgrown  form,  too  large  for 
any  one  man  to  attend  to  properly,  and  consequently 
the  elysium  or  ideal  form  of  the  young  scapegraces 
who  formed  the  staple  of  it. 

Tom,  as  has  been  said,  had  come  up  from  the  third 
with  a  good  character,  but  the  temptations  of  the 
lower-fourth  soon  proved  too  strong  for  him,  and  he 
rapidly  fell  away ;  and  became  as  unmanageable  as 
the  rest.  For  some  weeks,  indeed,  he  succeeded  in 
maintaining  the  appearance  of  steadiness,  and  was 
looked  upon  favorably  by  his  new  master,  whose  eyes 
were  first  opened  by  the  following  little  incident. 

Besides  the  desk  which  the  master  himself  occupied, 
there  was  another  large  unoccupied  desk  in  the  corner 
of  the  great  school,  which  was  untenanted.  To  rush 
and  seize  upon  this  desk,  which  was  ascended  by  three 
steps,  and  held  four  boys,  Avas  the  great  object  of  am- 
bition of  the  lower  fourthers  ;  and  the  contentions  for 
the  occupation  of  it  bred  such  disorder,  that  at  last 
the  master  forbade  its  use  altogether.  This  of  course 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  201 

was  a  challenge  to  the  more  adventurous  spirits  to 
occupy  it,  and  as  it  was  capacious  enough  for  two  boys 
to  lie  hid  there  completely,  it  was  seldom  that  it  re- 
mained empty,  notwithstanding  the  veto.  Small  holes 
were  cut  in  the  front,  through  which  the  occupants 
Avatched  the  masters  as  they  walked  up  and  down,  and 
as  lesson  time  approached,  one  boy  at  a  time  stole  out 
and  down  the  steps,  as  the  master's  backs  were  turned, 
and  mingled  with  the  general  crowd  on  the  forms 
below.  Tom  and  East  had  successfully  occupied  the 
desk  some  half-dozen  times,  arid  were  grown  so  reck- 
less that  they  were  in  the  habit  of  playing  small 
games  with  fives'  balls  inside  when  the  masters  were 
at  the  other  end  of  the  big  school.  One  day,  as  ill- 
luck  would  have  it,  the  game  became  more  exciting 
than  usual,  and  the  ball  slipped  through  East's  fingers, 
and  rolled  slowly  down  the  steps,  and  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  school,  just  as  the  masters  turned  in 
their  walk  and  faced  round  upon  the  desk.  The 
young  delinquents  watched  their  master  through  the 
look-out  holes,  march  slowly  down  the  school  straight 
upon  their  retreat,  while  all  the  boys  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  course  stopped  their  work  to  look  on  :  and  not 
only  were  they  ignominiously  drawn  out,  and  caned 
over  the  hand  then  and  there,  but  their  characters  for 
steadiness  were  gone  from  that  time.  However,  as 
they  only  shared  the  fate  of  some  three-fourths  of  the 
rest  of  the  form,  this  did  not  weigh  heavily  upon 
them. 


202  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

In  fact,  the  only  occasions  on  which  they  cared 
about  the  matter  were  the  monthly  examinations, 
when  the  Doctor  came  round  to  examine  their  form, 
for  one  long  awful  hour,  in  the  work  which  they  had 
done  in  the  preceding  month.  The  second  monthly 
examination  came  round  soon  after  Tom's  fall,  and  it 
was  with  anything  but  lively  anticipations  that  he  and 
the  other  lower-fourth  boys  came  in  to  prayers  on  the 
morning  of  the  examination  day. 

Prayers  and  calling-over  seemed  twice  as  short  as 
usual,  and  before  they  could  get  construes  of  a  tithe 
of  the  hard  passages  marked  in  the  margin  of  their 
books,  they  were  all  seated  round,  and  the  Doctor  was 
standing  in  the  middle,  talking  in  whispers  to  the 
master.  Tom  couldn't  hear  a  word  which  passed,  and 
never  lifted  his  eyes  from  his  book  ;  but  he  knew  by 
a  sort  of  magnetic  instinct  that  the  Doctor's  under  lip 
was  coming  out,  and  his  eye  beginning  to  burn,  and 
his  gown  getting  gathered  up  more  and  more  tightly 
in  his  left  hand.  The  suspense  was  agonizing,  and 
Tom  knew  that  he  was  sure  on  such  occasions  to  make 
an  example  of  the  School-house  boys.  "  If  he  would 
only  begin,"  thought  Tom,  "I  shouldn't  mind." 

At  last  the  whispering  ceased,  and  the  name  which 
was  called  out  was  not  Brown.  He  looked  up  for  a 
moment,  but  the  Doctor's  face  was  too  awful ;  Tom 
wouldn't  have  met  his  eye  for  all  he  was  worth,  and 
buried  himself  in  his  book  again. 

The  boy  who  was  called  up  first  was  a  clever  merry 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  203 

School-house  boy,  one  of  their  set :  he  was  some  con- 
nection of  the  Doctor's,  and  a  great  favorite,  and  ran 
in  and  out  of  his  house  as  he  liked,  and  so  was  selected 
for  the  first  victim. 

"  Triste  lupus,  stabulis,"  began  the  luckless  young- 
ster, arid  stammered  through  some  eight  or  ten  lines. 

"  There,  that  will  do,"  said  the  Doctor  ;  "  now  con- 
strue." 

On  common  occasions,  the  boy  could  have  construed 
the  passage  well  enough  probably,  but  now  his  head 
was  gone. 

"  Triste  lupus,  the  sorrowful  wolf,"  he  began. 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  whole  form,  and  the 
Doctor's  wrath  fairly  boiled  over ;  he  made  three  steps 
up  to  the  construct',  and  gave  him  a  good  box  on  the 
ear.  The  blow  was  not  a  hard  one,  but  the  boy  was  so 
taken  by  surprise  that  he  started  back ;  the  form 
caught  the  back  of  his  kness,  and  over  he  went  on  to 
the  floor  behind.  There  was  a  dead  silence  over  the 
whole  school ;  never  before,  and  never  again  while 
Tom  was  at  school  did  the  Doctor  strike  a  boy  in  les- 
son. The  provocation  must  have  been  great.  How- 
ever, the  victim  had  saved  his  form  for  that  occasion, 
for  the  Doctor  turned  to  the  top  bench,  and  put  on  the 
best  boys  for  the  rest  of  the  hour ;  and  though,  at 
the  end  of  the  lesson,  he  gave  them  all  such  a  rating 
as  they  did  not  forget,  this  terrible  field-day  passed 
over  without  any  severe  visitations  in  the  shape  of 
punishments  or  floggings.  Forty  young  scapegraces 


204  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

expressed  their  thanks  to  the   "sorrowful  wolf"  in 
their  different  ways  before  second  lesson. 

But  a  character  for  steadiness  once  gone  is  not  easily 
recovered,  as  Tom  found,  and  for  years  afterwards  he 
went  up  to  the  school  without  it,  and  the  masters'  hands 
were  against  him,  and  his  against  them.  And  he 
regarded  them,  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  his  natural 
enemies.  Matters  were  not  so  comfortable  either  in  the 
house  as  they  had  been,  for  Old  Brooke  left  at  Christ- 
mas, and  one  or  two  others  of  the  sixth-form  boys  at 
the  following  Easter.  Their  rule  had  been  rough,  but 
strong  and  just  in  the  main,  and  a  higher  standard  was 
beginning  to  be  set  up ;  in  fact,  there  had  been  a  short 
foretaste  of  the  good  time  which  followed  some  years 
later.  Just  now,  however,  all  threatened  to  return  into 
darkness  and  chaos  again.  For  the  new  praepostors 
were  either  small  young  boys,  whose  cleverness  had 
carried  them  up  to  the  top  of  the  school,  while  in 
strength  of  body  and  character  they  were  not  yet  fit 
for  a  share  in  the  government ;  or  else  big  fellows  of 
the  wrong  sort,  boys  whose  friendships  and  taste  had 
a  downward  tendency,  who  had  not  caught  the  meaning 
of  their  position  and  work,  and  felt  none  of  its  respon- 
sibilities. So  under  this  no-government  the  School- 
house  began  to  see  bad  times.  The  big  fifth-form 
boys,  who  were  a  sporting  and  drinking  set,  soon  began 
to  usurp  power,  and  to  fag  the  little  boys  as  if  they 
were  praepostors,  and  to  bully  and  oppress  any  who 
showed  signs  of  resistance.  The  bigger  sort  of  sixth- 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  205 

form  boys  just  described  soon  made  common  cause  with 
the  fifth,  while  the  smaller  sort,  hampered  by  their 
colleagues'  desertion  to  the  enemy,  could  not  make  head 
against  them.  So  the  fags  Avere  without  their  lawful 
masters  and  protectors,  and  ridden  over  rough-shod  by 
a  set  of  boys  Avhom  they  were  not  bound  to  obey,  and 
whose  only  right  over  them  stood  in  their  bodily 
powers ;  and,  as  old  Brooke  had  prophesied,  the  house 
by  degrees  broke  up  into  small  sets  and  parties,  and 
lost  the  strong  feeling  of  fellowship  which  he  set  so 
much  store  by,  and  Avith  it  much  of  the  prowess  in 
games  and  the  lead  in  all  school  matters  which  he  had 
done  so  much  to  keep  up. 

In  no  place  in  the  Avorld  has  individual  character 
more  Aveight  than  at  a  public  school.  Remember  this, 
I  beseech  you,  all  you  boys  who  are  getting  into  the 
upper  forms.  Now  is  the  time  in  all  your  lives  pro- 
bably when  you  may  have  more  Avide  influence  for  good 
or  evil  on  the  society  you  live  in  than  you  ever  can 
have  again.  Quit  yourselves  like  men,  then  ;  speak  up, 
and  strike  out  if  necessary  for  Avhatsoever  is  true,  and 
manly,  and  lovely,  and  of  good  report ;  never  try  to  be 
popular,  but  only  to  do  your  duty  and  help  others  to  do 
theirs,  and  you  may  leave  the  tone  of  feeling  in  the 
school  higher  than  you  found  it,  and  so  be  doing  good, 
which  no  living  soul  can  measure,  to  generations  of 
your  countrymen  yet  unborn.  For  boys  follow  one 
another  in  herds  like  sheep,  for  good  or  evil ;  they 
hate  thinking,  and  have  rarely  any  settled  principles. 


206  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Every  school,  indeed,  has  its  own  traditionary  standard 
of  right  and  wrong,  Avhich  cannot  be  transgressed  with 
impunity,  marking  certain  things  as  low  and  black- 
guard, and  certain  others  as  lawful  and  right.  This 
standard  is  ever  varying,  though  it  changes  only 
slowly,  and  little  by  little  ;  and,  subject  only  to  such 
standard,  it  is  the  leading  boys  for  the  time  being  who 
give  the  tone  to  all  the  rest,  and  make  the  School 
either  a  noble  institution  for  the  training  of  Christian 
Englishmen,  Or  a  place  where  a  young  boy  will  get 
more  evil  than  he  would  if  he  were  turned  out  to  make 
his  way  in  London  streets,  or  anything  between  these 
two  extremes. 

The  change  for  the  worse  in  the  School-house,  how- 
ever, didn't  press  very  heavily  on  our  youngsters  for 
some  time ;  they  were  in  a  good  bedroom,  where  slept 
the  only  praepostor  left  who  was  able  to  keep  thorough 
order,  and  their  study  was  in  his  passage ;  so,  though 
they  were  fagged  more  or  less,  and  occasionally  kicked 
or  cuffed  by  the  bullies,  they  were  on  the  whole  well 
off;  and  the  fresh  brave  school-life,  so  full  of  games, 
adventures,  and  good  fellowship,  so  ready  at  forgetting, 
so  capacious  at  enjoying,  so  bright  at  forecasting,  out- 
weighed a  thousandfold  their  troubles  with  the  master 
of  their  form,  and  the  occasional  ill-usage  of  the  big 
boys  in  the  house.  It  wasn't  till  some  years  or  so  after 
the  events  recorded  above,  that  the  praepostor  of  their 
room  and  passage  left.  None  of  the  other  sixth-form 
boys  would  move  into  their  passage,  and,  to  the  disgust 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  207 

and  indignation  of  Tom  and  East,  one  morning  after 
breakfast  they  were  seized  upon  by  Flashman,  and 
made  to  carry  down  his  books  and  furniture  into  the 
unoccupied  study  which  he  had  taken.  From  this 
time  they  began  to  feel  the  weight  of  the  tyranny  of 
Flashman  and  his  friends,  and,  now  that  trouble  had 
come  home  to  their  own  doors,  began  to  look  out  for 
sympathizers  and  partners  amongst  the  rest  of  the 
fags ;  and  meetings  of  the  oppressed  began  to  be  held, 
and  murmurs  to  arise  and  plots  to  be  laid  as  to  how 
they  should  free  themselves  and  be  avenged  on  their 
enemies. 

While  matters  were  in  this  state,  East  and  Tom 
were  one  evening  sitting  in  their  study.  They  had 
done  their  work  for  first  lesson,  and  Tom  was  in  a 
brown  study,  brooding,  like  a  young  William  Tell, 
upon  the  wrongs  of  fags  in  general,  and  his  own  in 
particular. 

"I  say,  Scud,"  said  he  at  last,  rousing  himself  to 
snuff  the  candle.  "  what  right  have  the  fifth-form  boys 
to  fag  us  as  they  do?" 

"No  more  right  than  you  have  to  fag  them," 
answered  East,  without  looking  up  from  an  early 
number  of  "Pickwick,"  which  was  just  coming  out, 
and  which  he  was  luxuriously  devouring,  stretched  on 
his  back  on  the  sofa. 

Tom  relapsed  into  his  brown  study,  and  East  went 
on  reading  and  chuckling.  The  contrast  of  the  boys' 
faces  would  have  given  infinite  amusement  to  a  looker- 


208  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

on,  the  one  so  solemn  and  big  with  mighty  purpose, 
the  other  radiant  and  bubbling  over  with  fun. 

"  Do  you  know,  old  fellow,  I've  been  thinking  it 
over  a  good  deal,"  began  Tom  again. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know,  fagging  you  are  thinking  of. 
Hang  it  all, — but  listen  here,  Tom — here's  fun.  Mr. 
Winkle's  horse " 

"  And  I've  made  up  my  mind,"  broke  in  Tom, 
"that  I  won't  fag  except  for  the  sixth." 

"  Quite  right  too,  my  boy,"  cried  East,  putting  his 
finger  on  the  place  and  looking  up ;  "  but  a  pretty 
peck  of  troubles  you'll  get  into,  if  you're  going  to 
play  that  game.  However,  I'm  all  for  a  strike  myself, 
if  we  can  get  others  to  join — it's  getting  too  bad." 

"  Can't  we  get  some  sixth-form  fellow  to  take  it 
up  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"  Well,  perhaps  we  might ;  Morgan  would  interfere, 
I  think.  Only,"  added  East,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"you  see  we  should  have  to  tell  him  about  it,  and 
that's  against  School  principles.  Don't  you  remember 
what  Old  Brooke  said  about  learning  to  take  our  own 
parts  ?" 

"  Ah,  I  wish  Old  Brooke  were  back  again — it  was 
all  right  in  his  time." 

"  Why  yes,  you  see  then  the  strongest  and  best 
fellows  were  in  the  sixth,  and  the  fifth-form  fellows 
were  afraid  of  them,  and  they  kept  good  order ;  but 
now  our  sixth-form  fellows  are  too  small,  and  the  fifth 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  209 

don't  care  for  them,  and  do  what  they  like  in  the 
house." 

"And  so  we  get  a  double  set  of  masters,"  cried 
Tom,  indignantly ;  "  the  lawful  ones,  who  are  respon- 
sible to  the  Doctor  at  any  rate,  and  the  unlawful — the 
tyrants,  who  are  responsible  to  nobody." 

"Down  with  the  tyrants!"  cried  East;  "I'm  all 
for  law  and  order,  and  hurra  for  a  revolution." 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  if  it  were  only  for  young  Brooke 
now,"  said  Tom,  "  he's  such  a  good-hearted,  gentle- 
manly fellow,  and  ought  to  be  in  the  sixth — I'd  do 
anything  for  him.  But  that  blackguard  Flashman, 
who  never  speaks  to  one  without  a  kick  or  an  oath — " 

"  The  coAvardly  brute,"  broke  in  East,  "how  I  hate 
him  !  And  he  knows  it  too ;  he  knows  that  you  and  I 
think  him  a  coward.  What  a  bore  that  he's  got  a 
study  in  this  passage !  don't  you  hear  them  now  at 
supper  in  his  den  ?  Brandy  punch  going,  I'll  bet.  I 
wish  the  Doctor  would  come  out  and  catch  him.  We 
must  change  our  study  as  soon  as  we  can." 

"  Change  or  no  change,  I'll  never  fag  for  him 
again,"  said  Tom,  thumping  the  table. 

"Fa-a-a-ag!"  sounded  along  the  passage  from 
Flashman's  study.  The  two  boys  looked  at  one 
another  in  silence.  It  had  struck  nine,  so  the  regular 
night-fags  had  left  duty,  and  they  were  the  nearest  to 
the  supper  party.  East  sat  up  and  began  to  look 
comical,  as  he  always  did  under  difficulties. 

"  Fa-a-a-ag  !"  again.     No  answer. 
14 


210  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Here,  Brown  !  East !  you  cursed  young  skulks," 
roared  out  Flashman,  coming  to  his  open  door,  "  I 
know  you're  in — no  shirking." 

Tom  stole  to  their  door,  and  drew  the  bolts  as  noise- 
lessly as  he  could  ;  East  blew  out  the  candle.  "  Barri- 
cade the  first,''  whispered  he.  "Now,  Tom,  mind,  no 
surrender." 

"  Trust  me  for  that,"  said  Tom  between  his  teeth. 

In  another  minute  they  heard  the  supper-party  turn 
out  and  come  down  the  passage  to  their  door.  They 
held  their  breaths,  and  heard  whispering,  of  which 
they  only  made  out  Flashman's  words,  "  I  know  the 
young  brutes  are  in." 

Then  came  summonses  to  open,  which  being  un- 
answered, the  assault  commenced :  luckily  the  door 
was  a  good  strong  oak  one,  and  resisted  the  united 
weight  of  Flashman's  party.  A  pause  followed,  and 
they  heard  a  besieger  remark,  "  They  are  in,  safe 
enough — don't  you  see  how  the  door  holds  at  top  and 
bottom  ?  so  the  bolts  must  be  drawn.  We  should  have 
forced  the  lock  long  ago."  East  gave  Tom  a  nudge, 
to  call  attention  to  this  scientific  remark. 

Then  came  attacks  on  particular  panels,  one  of 
which  at  last  gave  way  to  the  repeated  kicks ;  but  it 
broke  inwards,  arid  the  broken  piece  got  jammed 
across,  the  door  being  lined  with  green-baize,  and 
couldn't  easily  be  removed  from  outside ;  and  the  be- 
sieged, scorning  further  concealment,  strengthened 
their  defences  by  pressing  the  end  of  their  sofa  against 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  211 

the  door.  So  after  one  or  two  more  ineffectual  efforts, 
Flashman  and  Co.  retired,  vowing  vengeance  in  no 
mild  terms. 

The  first  danger  over,  it  only  remained  for  the 
besieged  to  effect  a  safe  retreat,  as  it  was  now  near 
bed-time.  They  listened  intently,  and  heard  the 
supper-party  resettle  themselves,  and  then  gently  drew 
back  first  one  bolt  and  then  the  other.  Presently  the 
convivial  noises  began  again  steadily.  "  Now  then, 
stand  by  for  a  run,"  said  East,  throwing  the  door  wide 
open  and  rushing  into  the  passage,  closely  followed  by 
Tom.  They  were  too  quick  to  be  caught ;  but  Flash- 
man was  on  the  look-out,  and  sent  an  empty  pickle- 
jar  whizzing  after  them,  which  narrowly  missed  Tom's 
head,  and  broke  into  twenty  pieces  at  the  end  of  the 
passage.  "  He  wouldn't  mind  killing  one  if  he  wasn't 
caught,"  said  East,  as  they  turned  the  corner. 

There  was  no  pursuit,  so  the  two  turned  into  the 
Hall,  where  they  found  a  knot  of  small  boys  round 
the  fire.  Their  story  was  told — the  war  of  indepen- 
dence had  broken  out, — who  would  join  the  revolu- 
tionary forces  ?  Several  others  present  bound  them- 
selves not  to  fag  for  the  fifth-form  at  once.  One  or 
two  only  edged  off,  and  left  the  rebels.  What  else 
could  they  do  ?  "  I've  a  good  mind  to  go  to  the 
Doctor  straight,"  said  Tom. 

"  That'll  never  do — don't  you  remember  the  levy 
of  the  School  last  half?"  put  in  another. 

In  fact,  that  solemn  assembly,  a  levy  of  the  School, 


212  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

had  been  held,  at  which  the  captain  of  the  School  had 
got  up,  and,  after  premising  that  several  instances  had 
occurred  of  matters  having  been  reported  to  the 
masters,  that  this  was  against  public  morality 
and  School  tradition  ;  that  a  levy  of  the  sixth  had 
been  held  on  the  subject,  and  they  had  resolved 
that  the  practice  must  be  stopped  at  once  ;  had  given 
out  that  any  boy,  in  whatever  form,  who  should 
thenceforth  appeal  to  a  master,  without  having 
first  gone  to  some  praepostor  and  laid  the  case  before 
him,  should  be  thrashed  publicly,  and  sent  to  Co- 
ventry. 

"  Well,  then,  let's  try  the  sixth.  Try  Morgan," 
suggested  another.  "No  use" — "Blabbing  won't 
do,"  was  the  general  feeling. 

"  I'll  give  you  fellows  a  piece  of  advice,"  said  a  voice 
from  the  end  of  the  Hall.  They  all  turned  round  with 
a  start,  and  the  speaker  got  up  from  a  bench  on 
which  he  had  been  lying  unobserved,  and  gave  himself 
a  shake ;  he  was  a  big  loose-made  fellow,  with  huge 
limbs  which  had  grown  too  far  through  his  jacket  and 
trousers.  "  Don't  you  go  to  anybody  at  all — you  just 
stand  out;  say  you  won't  fag — they'll  soon  get  tired  of 
licking  you.  I've  tried  it  on  years  ago' with  their  fore- 
runners." 

"No  !  did  you?  tell  us  how  it  was,"  cried  a  chorus 
of  voices,  as  they  clustered  round  him. 

"  Well,  just  as  it  is  with  you.  The  fifth-form  would 
fag  us,  and  I  and  some  more  struck,  and  we  beat  'em. 


THE  WAK  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  213 

The  good  fellows  left  off  directly,  and  the  bullies  who 
kept  on  soon  got  afraid." 

"  Was  Flashman  here  then  ?" 

"  Yes  !  and  a  dirty  little  snivelling,  sneaking  fellow 
he  was  too.  He  never  dared  join  us,  and  used  to  toady 
the  bullies  by  offering  to  fag  for  them,  and  peaching 
against  the  rest  of  us." 

"  Why  wasn't  he  cut  then  ?"  said  East. 

"  Oh,  toadies  never  get  cut,  they're  too  useful. 
Besides,  he  has  no  end  of  great  hampers  from  home, 
with  wine  and  game  in  them  ;  so  he  toadied  and  fed 
himself  into  favor." 

The  quarter-to-ten  bell  now  rang,  and  the  small 
boys  went  off  up-stairs,  still  consulting  together,  and 
praising  their  new  counsellor,  who  stretched  himself  out 
on  the  bench  before  the  Hall  fire  again.  There  he  lay, 
a  very  queer  specimen  of  boyhood,  by  name  Diggs,  and 
familiarly  called  "  the  Mucker."  He  was  young  for  his 
size,  and  a  very  clever  fellow,  nearly  at  the  top  of  the 
fifth.  His  friends  at  home,  having  regard,  I  suppose, 
to  his  age,  and  not  to  his  size  and  place  in  the  school, 
hadn't  put  him  into  tails  ;  and  even  his  jackets  were 
always  too  small ;  and  he  had  a  talent  for  destroying 
clothes,  and  making  himself  look  shabby.  He  wasn't 
on  terms  with  Flashman's  set,  who  sneered  at  his  dress 
and  ways  behind  his  back,  which  he  knew,  and  revenged 
himself  by  asking  Flashman  the  most  disagreeable  ques- 
tions, and  treating  him  familiarly  whenever  a  crowd  of 
boys  were  round  them.  Neither  was  he  intimate  with 


214  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

any  of  the  other  bigger  boys,  who  were  warned  off  by 
his  oddnesses,  for  he  was  a  very  queer  fellow ;  besides, 
amongst  other  failings,  he  had  that  of  impecuniosity 
in  a  remarkable  degree.  He  brought  as  much  money  as 
other  boys  to  school,  but  got  rid  of  it  in  no  time,  no 
one  knew  how.  And  then,  being  also  reckless, 
borrowed  from  anyone,  and  when  his  debts  accumulated 
and  creditors  pressed,  would  have  an  auction  in  the 
Hall  of  everything  he  possessed  in  the  world,  selling 
even  his  school-books,  candlestick,  and  study  table. 
For  weeks  after  one  of  these  auctions,  having  rendered 
his  study  uninhabitable,  he  would  live  about  in  the 
fifth-form  room  and  Hall,  doing  his  verses  on  old  letter- 
backs  and  odd  scraps  of  paper,  and  learning  his  lessons 
no  one  knew  how.  He  never  meddled  with  any  little 
boy,  and  was  popular  with  them,  though  they  all  looked 
on  him  with  a  sort  of  compassion,  and  called  him  "  poor 
Diggs,"  not  being  able  to  resist  appearances,  or  to 
disregard  wholly  even  the  sneers  of  their  enemy  Flash- 
man.  However,  he  seemed  equally  indifferent  to  the 
sneers  of  big  boys  and  the  pity  of  small  ones,  and  lived 
his  own  queer  life  with  much  apparent  enjoyment  to 
himself.  It  is  necessary  to  introduce  Diggs  thus  par- 
ticularly, as  he  not  only  did  Tom  and  East  good  service 
in  their  present  warfare,  as  is  about  to  be  told,  but 
soon  afterwards,  when  he  got  into  the  sixth,  chose  them 
for  his  fags,  and  excused  them  from  study-fagging, 
thereby  earning  unto  himself  eternal  gratitude  from 
them,  and  all  who  are  interested  in  their  history. 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  215 

And  seldom  had  small  boys  more  need  of  a  friend, 
for  the  morning  after  the  siege  the  storm  burst  upon 
the  rebels  in  all  its  violence.  Flashman  laid  wait,  and 
caught  Tom  before  second  lesson,  and  receiving  a  point 
blank  "  No,"  when  told  to  fetch  his  hat,  seized  him  and 
twisted  his  arm,  and  went  through  the  other  methods 
of  torture  in  use  : — "  He  couldn't  make  me  cry  though," 
as  Tom  said  triumphantly  to  the  rest  of  the  rebels,  "  and 
I  kicked  his  shins  well,  I  know."  And  soon  it  crept 
out  that  a  lot  of  the  fags  were  in  league,  and  Flashman 
excited  his  associates  to  join  him  in  bringing  the  young 
vagabonds  to  their  senses ;  and  the  house  was  filled 
with  constant  chasings,  and  sieges,  and  lickings  of  all 
sorts ;  and  in  return,  the  bullies'  beds  were  pulled  to 
pieces,  and  drenched  with  water,  and  their  names  written 
up  on  the  walls  with  every  insulting  epithet  which  the 
fag  invention  could  furnish.  The  war  in  short  raged 
fiercely ;  but  soon,  as  Diggs  had  told  them,  all  the 
better  fellows  in  the  fifth  gave  up  trying  to  fag  them, 
and  public  feeling  began  to  set  against  Flashman  and 
his  two  or  three  intimates,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
keep  their  doings  more  secret,  but  being  thorough  bad 
fellows,  missed  no  opportunity  of  torturing  in  private. 
Flashman  was  an  adept  in  all  ways,  but  above  all  in  the 
power  of  saying  cutting  and  cruel  things,  and  could 
often  bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of  boys  in  this  way,  which 
all  the  thrashings  in  the  world  wouldn't  have  wrung 
from  them. 

And  as  his  operations  were  being  cut  short  in  other 


216  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

directions,  he  now  devoted  himself  chiefly  to  Tom  and 
East,  who  lived  at  his  own  door,  and  would  force  him- 
self into  their  study  whenever  he  found  a  chance,  and 
sit  there,  sometimes  alone,  sometimes  with  a  companion, 
interrupting  all  their  work,  and  exulting  in  the  evident 
pain  which  every  now  and  then  he  could  see  he  was 
inflicting  on  one  or  the  other. 

The  storm  had  cleared  the  air  for  the  rest  of  the 
house,  and  a  better  state  of  things  now  began  than 
there  had  been  since  Old  Brooke  had  left :  but  an 
angry  dark  spot  of  thunder-cloud  still  hung  over  the 
end  of  the  passage,  where  Flashman's  study  and  that 
of  East  and  Tom  lay. 

He  felt  that  they  had  been  the  first  rebels,  and  that 
the  rebellion  had  been  to  a  great  extent  successful ; 
but  what  above  all  stirred  the  hatred  and  bitterness  of 
his  heart  against  them,  was  that  in  the  frequent  col- 
lisions which  there  had  been  of  late,  they  had  openly 
called  him  coward  and  sneak, — the  taunts  were  too 
true  to  be  forgiven.  While  he  was  in  the  act  of 
thrashing  them,  they  would  roar  out  instances  of  his 
funking  at  foot-ball,  or  shirking  some  encounter  with 
a  lout  of  half  his  own  size.  These  things  were  all 
well  enough  known  in  the  house,  but  to  have  his  dis- 
grace shouted  out  by  small  boys,  to  feel  that  they 
despised  him,  to  be  unable  to  silence  them  by  any 
amount  of  torture,  and  to  see  the  open  laugh  and  sneer 
of  his  own  associates  (who  were  looking  on  and  took 
no  trouble  to  hide  their  scorn  from  him,  though  they 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  217 

neither  interfered  with  his  bullying  or  lived  a  bit  the 
less  intimately  with  him),  made  him  beside  himself. 
Come  what  might  he  would  make  those  boy's  lives 
miserable.  So  the  strife  settled  down  into  a  personal 
affair  between  Flashman  and  our  youngsters  ;  a  war  to 
the  knife  to  be  fought  out  in  the  little  cockpit  at  the 
end  of  the  bottom  passage. 

Flashman,  be  it  said,  was  about  seventeen  years 
old,  and  big  and  strong  of  his  age.  He  played  well 
at  all  games  where  pluck  wasn't  much  wanted,  and 
managed  generally  to  keep  up  appearances  where  it 
was ;  and  having  a  bluff  off-hand  manner,  which 
passed  for  heartiness,  and  considerable  powers  of 
being  pleasant  when  he  liked,  went  down  with  the 
School  in  general  for  a  good  fellow  enough.  Even  in 
the  School-house,  by  dint  of  his  command  of  money, 
the  constant  supply  of  good  things  which  he  kept  up, 
and  his  adroit  toadyism,  he  had  managed  to  make  him- 
self not  only  tolerated,  but  rather  popular  amongst  his 
own  contemporaries ;  although  young  Brooke  scarcely 
spoke  to  him,  and  one  or  two  others  of  the  right  sort 
showed  their  opinions  of  him  whenever  a  chance  offered. 
But  the  wrong  sort  happened  to  be  in  the  ascendant 
just  now,  so  Flashman  was  a  formidable  enemy  for 
small  boys.  This  soon  became  plain  enough.  Flash- 
man left  no  slander  unspoken,  and  no  deed  undone, 
which  could  in  any  way  hurt  his  victims,  or  isolate 
them  from  the  rest  of  the  house.  One  by  one  most 
of  the  other  rebels  fell  away  from  them,  while  Flash- 


218  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

man's  cause  prospered,  and  several  other  fifth-form 
boys  began  to  look  black  at  them  and  ill-treat  them 
as  they  passed  about  the  house.  By  keeping  out  of 
bounds,  or  at  all  events  out  of  the  house  and  quad- 
rangle, all  day,  and  carefully  barring  themselves  in 
at  night.  East  and  Tom  managed  to  hold  on  without 
feeling  very  miserable ;  but  it  was  as  much  as  they 
could  do.  Greatly  were  they  drawn  then  towards 
old  Diggs,  who,  in  an  uncouth  way,  began  to  take  a 
good  deal  of  notice  of  them,  and  once  or  twice  came 
to  their  study  when  Flashman  was  there,  who  imme- 
diately decamped  in  consequence.  The  boys  thought 
that  Diggs  must  have  been  watching. 

When  therefore,  about  this  time,  an  auction  was  one 
night  announced  to  take  place  in  the  Hall,  at  which, 
amongst  the  superfluities  of  other  boys,  all  Diggs' 
Penates  for  the  time  being  were  going  to  the  hammer, 
East  and  Tom  laid  their  heads  together,  and  resolved 
to  devote  their  ready  cash  (some  four  shillings  sterling) 
to  redeem  such  articles  as  that  sum  would  cover.  Ac- 
cordingly, they  duly  attended  to  bid,  and  Tom  became 
the  owner  of  two  lots  of  Diggs'  things: — lot  1,  price 
one-and-threepence,  consisting  (as  the  auctioneer  re- 
marked) of  a  "  valuable  assortment  of  old  metals,"  in 
the  shape  of  a  mouse-trap,  a  cheese-toaster  without  a 
handle,  and  a  saucepan :  lot  2,  of  a  villanous  dirty 
table-cloth  and  a  green-baize  curtain;  while  East  for 
one-and-sixpence  purchased  a  leather  paper-case,  with 
a  lock  but  no  key,  once  handsome,  but  now  much  the 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  219 

worse  for  wear.  But  they  had  still  the  point  to  settle 
of  how  to  get  Diggs  to  take  the  things  without  hurt- 
ing his  feelings.  This  they  solved  by  leaving  them 
in  his  study,  which  was  never  locked  when  he  was 
out.  Diggs,  who  had  attended  the  auction,  remem- 
bered who  had  bought  the  lots,  and  came  to  their 
study  soon  after,  and  sat  silent  for  some  time,  crack- 
ing his  great  red  finger-joints.  Then  he  laid  hold 
of  their  verses,  and  began  looking  over  and  altering 
them,  said,  "  You're  uncommon  good-hearted  little 
beggars,  you  two — I  value  that  paper-case ;  my  sis- 
ter gave  it  to  me  last  holidays — I  won't  forget;"  and 
so  tumbled  out  into  the  passage,  leaving  them  some- 
what embarrassed,  but  not  sorry  that  he  knew  what 
they  had  done. 

The  next  morning  was  Saturday,  the  day  on  which 
the  allowances  of  one  shilling  a-Aveek  were  paid,  an 
important  event  to  spendthrift  youngsters  ;  and  great 
was  the  disgust  amongst  the  small  fry  to  hear  that  all 
the  allowances  had  been  impounded  for  the  Derby 
lottery.  That  great  event  in  the  English  year,  the 
Derby,  was  celebrated  at  Rugby  in  those  days  by 
many  lotteries.  It  was  not  an  improving  custom,  I 
own,  gentle  reader,  and  led  to  making  books  and 
betting  and  other  objectionable  results ;  but  when 
our  great  Houses  of  Palaver  think  it  right  to  stop 
the  nation's  business  on  that  day,  and  many  of  the 
members  bet  heavily  themselves,  can  you  blame  us 
boys  for  following  the  example  of  our  betters  ? — at 


TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

any  rate  we  did  follow  it.  First  there  was  the  great 
School  lottery,  where  the  first  prize  was  six  or  seven 
pounds ;  then  each  House  had  one  or  more  sep- 
arate lotteries.  These  were  all  normally  voluntary, 
no  boy  being  compelled  to  put  in  his  shilling  who 
didn't  choose  to  do  so :  but  besides  Flashman,  there 
were  three  or  four  other  fast  sporting  young  gentle- 
men in  the  School-house,  who  considered  subscription 
a  matter  of  duty  and  necessity,  and  so,  to  make  their 
duty  come  easy  to  the  small  boys,  quietly  secured  the 
allowances  in  a  lump  when  given  out  for  distribution, 
and  kept  them.  It  was  no  use  grumbling, — so  many 
fewer  tartlets  and  apples  were  eaten  and  fives'  balls 
bought  on  that  Saturday ;  and  after  locking-up,  when 
the  money  would  otherwise  have  been  spent,  consola- 
tion was  carried  to  many  a  small  boy,  by  the  sound 
of  the  night-fags  shouting  along  the  passages,  "  Gen- 
tlemen sportsmen  of  the  School-house,  the  lottery's 
going  to  be  drawn  in  the  Hall."  It  was  pleasant 
to  be  called  a  gentleman  sportsman — also  to  have  a 
chance  of  drawing  a  favorite  horse. 

The  Hall  was  full  of  boys,  and  at  the  head  of  one 
of  the  long  tables  stood  the  sporting  interest,  with  a 
hat  before  them,  in  which  were  the  tickets  folded  up. 
One  of  them  then  began  calling  out  the  list  of  the 
House ;  each  boy  as  his  name  was  called  drew  a  ticket 
from  the  hat  and  opened  it ;  and  most  of  the  bigger 
boys,  after  drawing,  left  the  Hall  directly  to  go  back 
to  their  studies  or  the  fifth-form  room.  The  sporting 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  221 

interest  had  all  drawn  blanks,  and  they  were 
sulky  accordingly ;  neither  of  the  favorites  had  been 
drawn,  and  it  had  come  down  to  the  upper-fourth. 
So  now,  as  each  -small  boy  came  up  and  drew  his 
ticket,  it  was  seized  and  opened  by  Flashman,  or 
some  other  of  the  standers-by.  But  no  great  favor- 
ite is  drawn  until  it  comes  to  the  Tadpole's  turn, 
and  he  shuffles  up  and  draws,  and  tries  to  make  off, 
but  is  caught,  and  his  ticket  is  opened  like  the 
rest. 

"Here  you  are!  Wanderer!  the  third  favorite," 
shouts  the  opener. 

"I  say,  just  give  me  my  ticket,  please,"  remon- 
strates Tadpole. 

"  Hullo,  don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  breaks  in  Flashman ; 
"  what'll  you  sell  Wanderer  for,  now  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  sell,"  rejoins  Tadpole. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  !  Now  listen,  you  young  fool — 
you  don't  know  anything  about  it ;  the  horse  is  no 
use  to  you.  He  won't  win,  but  I  want  him  as  a  hedge. 
Now  I'll  give  you  half-a-crown  for  him."  Tadpole 
holds  out,  but  between  threats  and  cajoleries  at  length 
sells  half  for  one-shilling-and-sixpence,  about  a  fifth 
of  its  fair  market  value ;  however,  he  is  glad  to  realize 
anything,  and  as  he  wisely  remarks,  "  Wanderer  mayn't 
win,  and  the  tizzy  is  safe  anyhow." 

East  presently  comes  up  and  draws  a  blank.  Soon 
after  comes  Tom's  turn  ;  his  ticket,  like  the  others, 
is  seized  and  opened.  "Here  you  are  then,"  shouts 


222  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  opener,  holding  it  up,  "  Harkaway  !  By  Jove, 
Flashey,  your  young  friend's  in  luck." 

"  Give  me  the  ticket,"  says  Flashman  with  an  oath, 
leaning  across  the  table  with  open  hand,  and  his  face 
black  with  rage. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  it?"  replies  the  opener,  not  a 
bad  fellow  at  the  bottom,  and  no  admirer  of  Flash- 
man's.  "Here,  Brown,  catch  hold,"  and  he  hands 
the  ticket  to  Tom,  who  pockets  it ;  whereupon  Flash- 
man makes  for  the  door  at  once,  that  Tom  and  the 
ticket  may  not  escape,  and  there  keeps  watch  until 
the  drawing  is  over  and  all  the  boys  are  gone,  except 
the  sporting  set  of  five  or  six,  who  stay  to  compare 
books,  make  bets  and  so  on,  Tom,  who  doesn't  choose 
to  move  while  Flashman  is  at  the  door,  and  East,  who 
stays  by  his  friend,  anticipating  trouble. 

The  sporting  set  now  gathered  round  Tom.  Pub- 
lic opinion  wouldn't  allow  them  actually  to  rob  him 
of  his  ticket,  but  any  humbug  or  intimidation  by 
which  he  could  be  driven  to  sell  the  whole  or  part 
at  an  under  value  was  lawful. 

"  Now,  young  Brown,  come,  what'll  you  sell  me 
Harkaway  for?  I  hear  he  isn't  going  to  start.  I'll 
give  you  five  shillings  for  him,"  begins  the  boy  who 
had  opened  the  ticket.  Tom,  remembering  his  good 
deed,  and  moreover  in  his  forlorn  state  wishing  to 
make  a  friend,  is  about  to  accept  the  offer,  when  an- 
other cries  out,  "  I'll  give  you  seven  shillings."  Tom 
hesitated,  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 


THE   WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  223 

"No,  no!"  said  Flashman,  pushing  in,  "leave  me 
to  deal  with  him ;  we'll  draw  lots  for  it  afterwards. 
Now,  sir,  you  know  me — you'll  sell  Harkaway  to  us 
for  five  shillings,  or  you'll  repent  it." 

"  I  won't  sell  a  bit  of  him,"  answered  Tom,  shortly. 

"You  hear  that  now!"  said  Flashman,  turning  to 
the  others.  "  He's  the  coxiest  young  blackguard  in 
the  house — I  ahvays  told  you  so.  We're  to  have  all 
the  trouble  and  risk  of  getting  up  the  lotteries  for 
the  benefit  of  such  fellows  as  he." 

Flashman  forgets  to  explain  what  risk  they  ran, 
but  he  speaks  to  willing  ears.  Gambling  makes  boys 
selfish  and  cruel  as  well  as  men. 

"That's  true, — we  ahvays  draw  blanks,"  cried  one. 
"  Now,  sir,  you  shall  sell  half,  at  any  rate." 

"I  won't,"  said  Tom,  flushing  up  to  his  hair,  and 
lumping  them  all  in  his  mind  with  his  sworn  enemy. 

"Very  well  then,  let's  roast  him,"  cried  Flashman, 
and  catches  hold  of  Tom  by  the  collar;  one  or  two 
boys  hesitate,  but  the  rest  join  in.  East  seizes  Tom's 
arm  and  tries  to  pull  him  away,  but  is  knocked  back 
by  one  of  the  boys,  and  Tom  is  dragged  along,  strug- 
gling. His  shoulders  are  pushed  against  the  mantel- 
piece, and  he  is  held  by  main  force  before  the  fire, 
Flashman  drawing  his  trousers  tight  by  way  of  extra 
torture.  Poor  East,  in  more  pain  even  than  Tom, 
suddenly  thinks  of  Diggs,  and  darts  off  to  find  him. 
"Will  you  sell  him  for  ten  shillings?"  says  one  boy 
•who  is  relenting. 


224  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Tom  only  answers  by  groans  and  struggles. 

"I  say,  Flashey,  be  has  bad  enougb,"  says  the 
same  boy,  dropping  the  arm  he  holds. 

"No,  no;  another  turn'll  do  it,"  answers  Flash- 
man.  But  poor  Tom  is  done  already,  turns  deadly 
pale,  and  his  head  falls  forward  on  his  breast,  just 
as  Diggs,  in  frantic  excitement,  rushes  into  the  Hall 
with  East  at  his  heels. 

"You  cowardly  brutes!"  is  all  he  can  say,  as  he 
catches  Tom  from  them  and  supports  him  to  the  Hall 
table.  "  Good  God !  he's  dying.  Here,  get  some 
cold  water — run  for  the  housekeeper." 

Flashman  and  one  or  two  others  slink  away ;  the 
rest,  ashamed  and  sorry,  bend  over  Tom  or  run  for 
Avater,  while  East  darts  off  for  the  housekeeper. 
Water  comes,  and  they  throw  it  on  his  hands  and 
face,  and  he  begins  to  come  to.  "  Mother  !" — the 
words  came  feebly  and  slowly — "  it's  very  cold  to- 
night." Poor  old  Diggs  is  blubbering  like  a  child. 
"Where  am  I?"  goes  on  Tom,  opening  his  eyes. 
"Ah!  I  remember  now,"  and  he  shut  his  eyes  again 
and  groaned. 

"I  say,"  is  whispered,  "we  can't  do  any  good,  and 
the  housekeeper  will  be  here  in  a  minute,"  and  all 
but  one  steal  away ;  he  stays  with  Diggs,  silent  and 
sorrowful,  and  fans  Tom's  face. 

The  housekeeper  comes  in  with  strong  salts,  and 
Tom  soon  recovers  enough  to  sit  up.  There  is  a 


THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE.  225 

smell  of  burning ;  she  examines  his  clothes,  and  looks 
up  inquiringly.  The  boys  are  silent. 

"How  did  he  come  so?"     No  answer. 

"There's  been  some  bad  work  here,"  she  adds, 
looking  very  serious,  "  and  I  shall  speak  to  the  Doc- 
tor about  it."  Still  no  answer. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  carry  him  to  the  sick-room  ?" 
suggests  Diggs. 

"  Oh,  I  can  walk  now,"  says  Tom  ;  and,  supported 
by  East  and  the  housekeeper,  goes  to  the  sick-room. 
The  boy  who  held  his  ground  is  soon  amongst  the 
rest,  who  are  all  in  fear  of  their  lives.  "Did  he 
peach?"  "Does  she  know  about  it?" 

"Not  a  word — he's  a  stanch  little  fellow."  And 
pausing  a  moment  he  adds,  "  I'm  sick  of  this  work  ; 
what  brutes  we've  been  !" 

Meantime  Tom  is  stretched  on  the  sofa  in  the 
housekeeper's  room,  with  East  by  his  side,  while  she 
gets  wine  and  water  and  other  restoratives. 

"Are  you  much  hurt,  dear  old  boy?"  whispers 
East. 

"  Only  the  back  of  my  legs,"  answers  Tom.  They 
are  indeed  badly  scorched,  and  part  of  his  trousers 
burnt  through.  But  soon  he  is  in  bed  with  cold 
bandages.  At  first  he  feels  broken,  and  thinks  of 
writing  home  and  getting  taken  away ;  and  the  verse 
of  a  hymn  he  had  learned  years  ago  sings  through 
his  head,  and  he  goes  to  sleep,  murmuring — 

15 


226  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  "Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
And  the  weary  are  at  rest." 

But  after  a  sound  night's  rest  the  old  boy-spirit 
comes  back  again.  East  comes  in  reporting  that  the 
whole  House  is  with  him,  and  forgets  everything 
except  their  old  resolve,  never  to  be  beaten  by  that 
bully  Flashman. 

Not  a  word  could  the  housekeeper  extract  from 
either  of  them,  and  though  the  Doctor  knew  all  that 
she  knew  that  morning,  he  never  knew  any  more. 

I  trust  and  believe  that  such  scenes  are  not  possible 
now  at  school,  and  that  lotteries  and  betting-books 
have  gone  out ;  but  I  am  writing  of  schools  as  they 
were  in  our  time,  and  must  give  the  evil  with  the 
good. 


DOORWAY   OF  SCHOOL    HOUSE,   RUGBY 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS. 

Wherein  I  [speak]  of  most  disastrous  chances, 
Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field, 
Of  hairbreadth  "scapes." — Shakespeare. 

WHEN  Tom  came  back  into  school  after  a  couple  of 
days  in  the  sick-room,  he  found  matters  much  changed 
for  the  better,  as  East  had  led  him  to  expect.  Flash- 
man's  brutality  had  disgusted  most  even  of  his  inti- 
mate friends,  and  his  cowardice  had  once  more  been 
made  plain  to  the  House ;  for  Diggs  had  encountered 
him  on  the  morning  after  the  lottery,  and  after  high 
words  on  both  sides  had  struck  him,  and  the  blow  was 
not  returned.  However,  Flashey  was  not  unused  to 
this  sort  of  thing,  and  had  lived  through  as  awkward 
affairs  before,  and,  as  Diggs  had  said,  fed  and  toadied 
himself  back  into  favor  again.  Two  or  three  of  the  boys 
who  had  helped  to  roast  Tom  came  up  and  begged 
his  pardon,  and  thanked  him  for  not  telling  any- 
thing. Morgan  sent  for  him,  and  was  inclined  to  take 
the  matter  up  warmly,  but  Tom  begged  him  not  to  do 
it ;  to  which  he  agreed,  on  Tom's  promising  to  come  to 
him  at  once  in  future — a  promise  which  I  regret  to 
say  he  didn't  keep.  Tom  kept  Harkaway  all  to  him- 

227 


228  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

self,  and  won  the  second  prize  in  the  lottery,  some 
thirty  shillings,  which  he  and  East  contrived  to  spend 
in  about  three  days,  in  the  purchase  of  pictures  for 
their  study,  two  new  bats  and  a  cricket-ball,  all  the 
best  that  could  be  got,  and  a  supper  of  sausages,  kid- 
neys, and  beefsteak  pies  to  all  the  rebels.  Light  come, 
light  go  ;  they  wouldn't  have  been  comfortable  with 
money  in  their  pockets  in  the  middle  of  the  half. 

The  embers  of  Flashman's  wrath,  however,  were 
still  smouldering,  and  burst  out  every  now  and  then 
in  sly  blows  and  taunts,  and  they  both  felt  that  they 
hadn't  quite  done  with  him  yet.  It  wasn't  long,  how- 
ever, before  the  last  act  of  that  drama  came,  and  with 
it,  the  end  of  bullying  for  Tom  and  East  at  Rugby. 
They  now  often  stole  out  into  the  Hall  at  nights,  in- 
cited thereto,  partly  by  the  hope  of  finding  Diggs 
there  and  having  a  talk  with  him,  partly  by  the  ex- 
citement of  doing  something  which  was  against  rules  ; 
for,  sad  to  say,  both  of  our  youngsters,  since  their  loss 
of  character  for  steadiness  in  their  form,  had  got  into 
the  habit  of  doing  things  which  were  forbidden,  as  a 
matter  of  adventure ;  just  in  the  same  way,  I  should 
fancy,  as  men  fall  into  smuggling,  and  for  the  same 
sort  of  reasons.  Thoughtlessness  in  the  first  place. 
It  never  occurred  to  them  to  consider  why  such  and 
such  rules  were  laid  down  ;  the  reason  Avas  nothing  to 
them  ;  and  they  only  looked  upon  rules  as  a  sort  of 
challenge  from  the  rule-makers,  which  it  would  be 
rather  bad  pluck  in  them  not  to  accept ;  and  then 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  229 

again,  in  the  lower  parts  of  the  school  they  hadn't 
enough  to  do.  The  work  of  the  form  they  could 
manage  to  get  through  pretty  easily,  keeping  a  good 
enough  place  to  get  their  regular  yearly  remove  ;  and 
not  having  much  ambition  beyond  this,  their  whole 
superfluous  steam  was  available  for  games  and  scrapes. 
Now,  one  rule  of  the  House  which  it  was  a  daily 
pleasure  of  all  such  boys  to  break,  was  that  after 
supper  all  fags,  except  the  three  on  duty  in  tho 
passages,  should  remain  in  their  own  studies  until  nine 
o'clock  ;  and  if  caught  about  the  passages  or  Hall,  or 
in  one  another's  studies,  they  were  liable  to  punish- 
ments or  caning.  The  rule  was  stricter  than  its  ob- 
servance ;  for  most  of  the  sixth  spent  their  evenings 
in  the  fifth-form  room,  where  the  library  was,  and  the 
lessons  were  learnt  in  common.  Every  now  and  then, 
however,  a  praepostor  would  be  seized  with  a  fit  of  dis- 
trict visiting,  and  would  make  a  tour  of  the  passages 
and  Hall  and  the  fags'  studies.  Then,  if  the  owner 
were  entertaining  a  friend  or  two,  the  first  kick  at  the 
door  and  ominous  "  Open  here,"  had  the  effect  of  the 
shadow  of  a  hawk  over  a  chicken-}rard ;  every  one  cut 
to  cover — one  small  boy  diving  under  the  sofa,  another 
under  the  table,  while  the  owner  would  hastily  pull 
down  a  book  or  two  and  open  them,  and  cry  out  in  a 
meek  voice,  "  Hullo,  who's  there?"  casting  an  anxious 
eye  round  to  see  that  no  protruding  leg  or  elbow  could 
betray  the  hidden  boys.  "  Open,  sir,  directly ;  its 
Snooks."  "Oh,  I'm  very  sorry;  I  didn't  know  it 


230  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

was  you,  Snooks;"  and  then,  with  well-feigned  zeal, 
the  door  would  be  opened,  young  hopeful  praying  that 
that  beast  Snooks  mightn't  have  heard  the  scuffle 
caused  by  his  coming.  If  a  study  was  empty.  Snooks 
proceeded  to  draw  the  passages  and  Hall  to  find  the 
truants. 

Well,  one  evening,  in  forbidden  hours,  Torn  and 
East  were  in  the  Hall.  They  occupied  the  seats  be- 
fore the  fire  nearest  the  door,  while  Diggs  sprawled  as 
usual  before  the  further  fire.  He  was  busy  with  a 
copy  of  verses,  and  East  and  Tom  were  chatting  to- 
gether in  whisper  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  and  splicing 
a  favorite  old  fives'  bat  which  had  sprung.  Presently 
a  step  came  down  the  bottom  passage ;  they  listened  a 
moment,  assured  themselves  that  it  wasn't  a  praepostor, 
and  then  went  on  with  their  work,  and  the  door  swung 
open,  and  in  walked  Flashman.  He  didn't  see  Diggs, 
and  thought  it  a  good  chance  to  keep  his  hand  in  ;  and 
as  the  boys  didn't  move  for  him,  struck  one  of  them,  to 
make  them  get  out  of  his  way. 

"What's  that  for?"  growled  the  assaulted  one. 

"  Because  I  choose.  You've  no  business  here;  go 
to  your  study." 

"  You  can't  send  us." 

"  Can't  I  ?  Then  I'll  thrash  you  if  you  stay,"  said 
Flashman,  savagely. 

"  I  say,  you  two,"  said  Diggs,  from  the  end  of  the 
Hall,  rousing  up  and  resting  himself  on  his  elbow, 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  231 

"  you'll  never  get  rid  of  that  fellow  till  you  lick 
him.  Go  in  at  him,  both  of  you — I'll  see  fair  play." 

Flashman  was  taken  aback,  and  retreated  two  steps, 
East  looked  at  Tom.  "Shall  we  try?"  said  he. 
"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  desperately.  So  the  two  advanced 
on  Flashman,  with  clenched  fists  and  beating  hearts. 
They  were  about  up  to  his  shoulder,  but  tough  boys 
of  their  age,  and  in  perfect  training :  while  he,  though 
strong  and  big,  was  in  poor  condition,  from  his  mon- 
strous habits  of  stuffing  and  want  of  exercise.  Coward 
as  he  was,  however,  Flashman  couldn't  swallow  such 
an  insult  as  this  ;  besides,  he  Avas  confident  of  having 
easy  work,  and  so  faced  the  boys,  saying,  "  You  im- 
pudent young  blackguards!" — Before  he  could  finish 
his  abuse,  they  rushed  in  on  him,  and  began  pummel- 
ling at  all  of  him  which  they  could  reach.  He  hit  out 
wildly  and  savagely,  but  the  full  force  of  his  blows 
didn't  tell,  they  were  too  near  him.  It  was  long  odds, 
though,  in  point  of  strength,  and  in  another  minute 
Tom  went  spinning  backwards  over  a  form,  and  Flash- 
man turned  to  demolish  East,  with  a  savage  grin.  But 
now  Diggs  jumped  down  from  the  table  on  which  he 
had  seated  himself.  "  Stop  there,"  shouted  he  ;  "  the 
round's  over — half-minute  time  allowed." 

"What  the is  it  to  you?"  faltered  Flashman, 

who  began  to  lose  heart. 

"  I'm  going  to  see  fair,  I  tell  you,"  said  Diggs  with 
a  grin,  and  snapping  his  great  red  fingers  ;  "  tain't  fair 


232  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

for  you  to  be  fighting  one  of  them  at  a  time.  Are  you 
ready,  Brown?  Time's  up." 

The  small  boys  rushed  in  again.  Closing  they  saw 
was  their  best  chance,  and  Flashman  was  wilder  and 
more  flurried  than  ever :  he  caught  East  by  the  throat, 
and  tried  to  force  him  back  on  the  iron-bound  table ; 
Tom  grasped  his  waist,  and,  remembering  the  old 
throw  he  had  learned  in  the  Vale  from  Harry  Win- 
burn,  crooked  his  leg  inside  Flashman's,  and  threw 
his  whole  weight  forwards.  The  three  tottered  for  a 
moment,  and  then  over  they  went  on  the  floor,  Flash- 
man striking  his  head  against  a  form  in  the  Hall. 

The  two  youngsters  sprang  to  their  legs,  but  he  lay 
there  still.  They  began  to  be  frightened.  Tom 
stooped  down,  and  then  cried  out,  scared  out  of  his 
wits.  "  He's  bleeding  awfully ;  come  here,  East, 
Diggs, — he's  dying  !" 

"Not  he,"  said  Diggs,  getting  leisurely  off  the 
table ;  "  it's  all  sham — he's  only  afraid  to  fight  it 
out." 

East  was  as  frightened  as  Tom.  Diggs  lifted  Flash- 
man's  head,  and  he  groaned. 

"What's  the  matter?"  shouted  Diggs. 

"  Skull's  fractured,"  sobbed  Flashman. 

"Oh,  let  me  run  for  the  housekeeper,"  cried  Tom. 
"What  shall  we  do?" 

"Fiddlesticks!  it's  nothing  but  the  skin  broken," 
said  the  relentless  Diggs,  feeling  his  head.  "  Cold 
water  and  a  bit  of  rag's  all  he'll  want." 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  233 

"Let  me  go,"  said  Flashman,  surlily,  sitting  up; 
"I  don't  want  your  help." 

"We're  really  very  sorry,  began  East." 

"  Hang  your  sorrow,"  answered  Flashman,  holding 
his  handkerchief  to  the  place ;  "  you  shall  pay  for 
this,  I  can  tell  you,  both  of  you."  And  he  walked 
out  of  the  Hall. 

"  He  can't  be  very  bad,"  said  Tom  with  a  deep 
sigh,  much  relieved  to  see  his  enemy  march  so 
well. 

"Not  he,"  said  Diggs,  "and  you'll  see  you  won't 
be  troubled  with  him  any  more.  But,  I  say,  your 
head's  broken  too  —  your  collar  is  covered  with 
blood." 

"Is  it,  though?"  said  Tom,  putting  up  his  hand; 
"I  didn't  know  it." 

"  Well,  mop  it  up,  or  you'll  have  your  jacket  spoilt. 
And  you  have  got  a  nasty  eye,  Scud ;  you'd  better  go 
and  bathe  it  well  in  cold  water." 

"  Cheap  enough  too,  if  we've  done  with  our  old 
friend  Flash ey,"  said  East,  as  they  made  off  up  stairs 
to  bathe  their  wounds. 

They  had  done  with  Flashman  in  one  sense,  for  he 
never  laid  finger  on  either  of  them  again ;  but  what- 
ever harm  a  spiteful  heart  and  venomous  tongue  could 
do  them  he  took  care  should  be  done.  Only  throw 
dirt  enough,  and  some  of  it  is  sure  to  stick  ;  and  so  it 
was  with  the  fifth  form  and  the  bigger  boys  in  general, 
with  whom  he  associated  more  or  less,  and  they  not  at 


234  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

all.  Flashman  managed  to  get  Tom  and  East  into  dis- 
favor, which  did  not  wear  off  for  some  time  after 
the  author  of  it  had  disappeared  from  the  School  world. 
This  event,  much  prayed  for  by  the  small  fry  in 
general,  took  place  a  few  months  after  the  above  en- 
counter. One  fine  summer  evening  Flashman  had 
been  regaling  himself  on  gin-punch,  at  Brownsover; 
and  having  exceeded  his  usual  limits,  started  home 
uproarious.  He  fell  in  with  a  friend  or  tAvo  coming 
back  from  bathing,  proposed  a  glass  of  beer,  to  which 
they  assented,  the  weather  being  hot,  and  they  thirsty 
souls,  and  unaware  of  the  quantity  of  drink  which 
Flashman  had  already  on  board.  The  short  result 
was,  that  Flashey  became  beastly  drunk  ;  they  tried 
to  get  him  along,  but  couldn't ;  so  they  chartered  a 
hurdle  and  two  men  to  carry  him.  One  of  the  mas- 
ters came  upon  them,  and  they  naturally  enough  fled. 
The  flight  of  the  rest  raised  the  master's  suspicions, 
and  the  good  angel  of  the  fags  incited  him  to  examine 
the  freight,  and,  after  examination,  to  convoy  the 
hurdle  himself  up  to  the  School-house ;  and  the  Doc- 
tor, who  had  long  had  his  eyes  on  Flashman,  arranged 
for  his  withdrawal  next  morning. 

The  evil  that  men,  and  boys  too,  do,  lives  after 
them :  Flashman  was  gone,  but  our  boys,  as  hinted 
above,  still  felt  the  effects  of  his  hate.  Besides,  they 
had  been  the  movers  of  the  strike  against  unlawful 
fagging.  The  cause  was  righteous — the  result  had 
been  triumphant  to  a  great  extent ;  but  the  best  of  the 


A   CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  235 

fifth,  even  those  who  had  never  fagged  the  small  boys, 
or  had  given  up  the  practice  cheerfully,  couldn't  help 
feelino1  a  small  grudge  against  the  first  rebels.  After 

o  o  o  o 

all,  their  form  had  been  defied — on  just  grounds,  no 
doubt;  so  just,  indeed,  that  they  had  at  once  acknow- 
ledged the  wrong  and  remained  passive  in  the  strife : 
had  they  sided  with  Flashrnan  and  his  set,  the  rebels 
must  have  given  way  at  once.  They  couldn't  help,  on 
the  whole,  being  glad  that  thay  had  so  acted,  and  that 
the  resistance  had  been  successful  against  such  of  their 
own  form  as  had  shown  fight ;  they  felt  that  law  and 
order  had  gained  thereby,  but  the  ringleaders  they 
couldn't  quite  pardon  at  once.  "  Confoundedly  coxy 
those  young  rascals  will  get,  if  we  don't  mind,"  was 
the  general  feeling. 

So  it  is,  and  must  be  always,  my  dear  boys.  If  the 
Angel  Gabriel  were  to  come  down  from  heaven,  and 
head  a  successful  rise  against  the  most  abominable  and 
unrighteous  vested  interest,  which  this  poor  old  world 
groans  under,  he  would  most  certainly  lose  his  charac- 
ter for  many  years,  probably  for  centuries,  not  only 
with  upholders  of  said  vested  interest,  but  Avith  the 
respectable  mass  of  the  people  whom  he  had  delivered. 
They  wouldn't  ask  him  to  dinner,  or  let  their  names 
appear  with  his  in  the  papers  ;  they  would  be  very 
careful  how  they  spoke  of  him  in  the  Palaver,  or  at 
their  clubs.  What  can  we  expect,  then,  when  we  have 
only  poor  gallant  blundering  men  like  Kossuth,  Gar- 
ibaldi, Mazzini,  and  righteous  causes  which  do  not 


236  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

triumph  in  their  hands ;  men  who  have  holes  enough 
in  their  armor,  God  knoAvs,  easy  to  be  hit  by  respect- 
abilities sitting  in  their  lounging  chairs,  and  having 
large  balances  at  their  bankers  ?  But  you  are  brave, 
gallant  boys,  who  hate  easy-chairs,  and  have  no  bal- 
ances or  bankers.  You  only  want  to  have  your  heads 
set  straight  to  take  the  right  side  ;  so  bear  in  mind 
that  majorities,  especially  respectable  ones,  are  nine 
times  out  of  ten  in  the  wrong ;  and  that  if  you  see  a 
man  or  boy  striving  on  the  weak  side,  however  wrong- 
headed  or  blundering  he  may  be,  you  are  not  to  go  and 
join  the  cry  against  him.  If  you  can't  join  him  and 
help  him,  and  make  him  wiser,  at  any  rate  remember 
that  he  has  found  something  in  the  world  which  he 
will  fight  and  suffer  for,  which  is  just  what  you  have 
got  to  do  for  yourselves;  and  so  think  and  speak  of 
him  tenderly. 

So  East  and  Tom,  the  Tadpole,  and  one  or  two 
more,  became  a  sort  of  young  Ishmaelites,  their  hands 
against  every  one,  and  every  one's  hand  against  them. 
It  has  been  already  told  how  they  got  to  war  with  the 
masters  and  the  fifth  form,  and  with  the  sixth  it  was 
much  the  same.  They  saw  the  praepostors  cowed  by 
or  joining  with  the  fifth,  and  shirking  their  own 
duties ;  so  they  didn't  respect  them,  and  rendered  no 
willing  obedience.  It  had  been  one  thing  to  clean  out 
studies  for  sons  of  heroes  like  old  Brooke,  but  quite 
another  to  do  the  like  for  Snooks  and  Green,  who  had 
never  faced  a  good  scrummage  at  football,  and  couldn't 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  237 

keep  the  passages  in  order  at  niglit.  So  they  only 
slurred  through  their  fagging  just  well  enough  to 
escape  a  licking,  and  not  always  that,  and  got  the 
character  of  sulky,  unwilling  fags.  In  the  fifth-form 
room,  after  supper,  when  such  matters  were  often 
discussed  and  arranged,  their  names  were  forever 
coming  up. 

"I  say,  Green,"  Snooks  began  one  night,  "isn't 
that  new  boy,  Harrison,  your  fag?" 

"Yes;  why?" 

"  Oh,  I  know  something  of  him  at  home,  and  should 
like  to  excuse  him — will  you  swop  ?" 

"  Who  will  you  give  me  ?" 

"  Well,  let's  see  ;  there's  Willis,  Johnson — No,  that 
won't  do.  Yes,  I  have  it — there's  young  East,  I'll 
give  you  him." 

"Don't  you  wish  you  may  get  it?"  replied  Green. 
"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do — I'll  give  you  two  for  Wil- 
lis if  you  like." 

"Who  then?"  asks  Snooks. 

"  Hall  and  Brown." 

"  Wouldn't  have  'em  at  a  gift." 

"  Better  than  East,  though  ;  for  they  ain't  quite  so 
sharp,"  said  Green,  getting  up  and  leaning  his  back 
against  the  mantelpiece — he  wasn't  a  bad  fellow,  and 
couldn't  help  not  being  able  to  put  down  the  unruly 
fifth  form.  His  eye  twinkled  as  he  went  on,  "  Did 
I  ever  tell  you  how  the  young  vagabond  sold  me  last 
half?" 


238  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"No;  how?" 

"  Well,  he  never  half  cleaned  my  study  out,  only 
just  stuck  the  candlesticks  in  the  cupboard,  and  swept 
the  crumbs  on  to  the  floor.  So  at  last  I  was  mortal 
angry,  and  had  him  up,  made  him  go  through  the 
whole  performance  under  my  eyes :  the  dust  the  young 
scamp  made  nearly  choked  me,  and  showed  that  he 
hadn't  swept  the  carpet  before.  Well,  when  it  was  all 
finished,  'Now,  young  gentleman,'  says  I,  'mind,  I 
expect  this  to  be  done  every  morning,  floor  swept, 
table-cloth  taken  off  and  shaken,  and  everything 
dusted.'  'Very  well,'  grunts  he.  Not  a  bit  of  it, 
though — I  was  quite  sure  in  a  day  or  two  that  he 
never  took  the  table-cloth  off  even.  So  I  laid  a  trap 
for  him  :  I  tore  up  some  paper  and  put  half-a-dozen 
bits  on  my  table  one  night,  and  the  cloth  over  them  as 
usual.  Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  up  I  came, 
pulled  off  the  cloth,  and  sure  enough  there  was  the 
paper,  which  fluttered  down  on  to  the  floor.  I  was  in 
a  towering  rage.  '  I've  got  you  now,'  thought  I,  and 
sent  for  him,  while  I  got  out  my  cane.  Up  he  came 
as  cool  as  you  please,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
'  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  shake  my  table-cloth  every  morn- 
ing ?'  roared  I.  '  Yes,'  says  he.  '  Did  you  do  it  this 
morning?'  'Yes.'  'You  young  liar!  I  put  these 
pieces  of  paper  on  the  table  last  night,  and  if  you'd 
taken  the  table-cloth  off  you'd  have  seen  them,  so  I'm 
going  to  give  you  a  good  licking.'  Then  my  young- 
ster takes  one  hand  out  of  his  pocket,  and  just  stoops 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  239 

down  and  picks  up  two  of  the  bits  of  paper,  and  holds 
them  out  to  me.  There  was  written  on  each,  in  great 
round  text,  '  Harry  East,  his  mark.'  The  young 
rogue  had  found  my  trap  out,  taken  away  my  paper, 
and  put  some  of  his  there,  every  bit  ear-marked.  I'd 
a  great  mind  to  lick  him  for  his  impudence,  but  after 
all  one  has  no  right  to  be  laying  traps,  so  I  didn't. 
Of  course  I  was  at  his  mercy  till  the  end  of  the  half, 
and  in  his  weeks  my  study  was  so  frowsy,  I  couldn't 
sit  in  it." 

"  They  spoil  one's  things  so,  too,"  chimed  in  a  third 
boy.  "  Hall  and  Brown  were  night-fags  last  week  :  I 
called  fag,  and  gave  them  my  candlesticks  to  clean ; 
away  they  went,  and  didn't  appear  again.  When 
they'd  had  time  enough  to  clean  them  three  times  over, 
I  went  out  to  look  after  them.  They  weren't  in  the 
passages,  so  down  I  went  into  the  Hall,  where  I  heard 
music,  and  there  I  found  them  sitting  on  the  table, 
listening  to  Johnson,  who  was  playing  the  flute,  and  my 
candlestick  stuck  between  the  bars  well  into  the  fire, 
red-hot,  clean-spoiled;  they've  never  stood  straight 
since,  and  I  must  get  some  more.  However,  I  gave 
them  both  a  good  licking,  that's  one  comfort." 

Such  were  the  sort  of  scrapes  they  were  always  get- 
ting into  :  and  so,  partly  by  their  own  faults,  partly 
from  circumstances,  partly  from  the  faults  of  others, 
they  found  themselves  outlaws,  ticket-of-leave  men,  or 
what  you  will  in  that  line  :  in  short,  dangerous  parties, 
and  lived  the  sort  of  hand-to-mouth,  wild,  reckless  life 


240  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

which  such  parties  generally  have  to  put  up  with. 
Nevertheless,  they  never  quite  lost  favor  with  young 
Brooke,  who  was  now  the  cock  of  the  house,  and  just 
getting  into  the  sixth,  and  Diggs  stuck  to  them  like  a 
man,  and  gave  them  store  of  good  advice,  by  which 
they  never  in  the  least  profited. 

And  even  after  the  house  mended,  and  law  and 
order  had  been  restored,  which  soon  happened  after 
young  Brooke  and  Diggs  got  into  the  sixth,  they 
couldn't  easily  or  at  once  return  into  the  paths  of 
steadiness,  and  many  of  the  old  wild  out-of-bounds 
habits  stuck  to  them  as  firmly  as  ever.  While  they 
had  been  quite  little  boys,  the  scrapes  they  got  into  in 
the  School  hadn't  much  mattered  to  anyone ;  but  now 
they  were  in  the  upper  school,  all  Avrong-doers  from 
which  were  sent  up  straight  to  the  Doctor  at  once  :  so 
they  began  to  come  under  his  notice ;  and  as  they 
were  a  sort  of  leaders  in  a  small  way  amongst  their 
own  contemporaries,  his  eye,  which  was  everywhere, 
was  upon  them. 

It  was  a  toss-up  whether  they  turned  out  well  or  ill, 
and  so  they  were  just  the  boys  who  caused  most  anx- 
iety to  such  a  master.  You  have  been  told  of  the  first 
occasion  on  which  they  were  sent  up  to  the  Doctor,  and 
the  remembrance  of  it  was  so  pleasant  that  they  had 
much  less  fear  of  him  than  most  boys  of  their  standing 
had.  "  It's  all  his  look,"  Tom  used  to  say  to  East, 
"  that  frightens  fellows  :  don't  you  remember,  he  never 


A   CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  241 

said  anything  to  us  my  first  half-year,  for  being  an 
hour  late  for  locking  up  ?" 

The  next  time  that  Tom  came  before  him,  however, 
the  interview  was  of  a  very  different  kind.  It  happened 
just  about  the  time  at  which  we  have  now  arrived,  and 
Avas  the  first  of  a  series  of  scrapes  into  which  our  hero 
managed  now  to  tumble. 

The  river  Avon  at  Rugby  is  a  slow  and  not  very 
clear  stream,  in  which  chub,  dace,  roach,  and  other 
coarse  fish  are  (or  were)  plentiful  enough,  together  with 
a  fair  sprinkling  of  small  jack,  but  no  fish  worth  six- 
pence either  for  sport  or  food.  It  is,  however,  a  cap- 
ital river  for  bathing,  as  it  has  many  nice  small  pools 
and  several  good  reaches  for  swimming,  all  within  about 
a  mile  of  one  another,  and  at  an  easy  twenty  minutes' 
walk  from  the  school.  This  mile  of  water  is  rented,  or 
used  to  be  rented,  for  bathing  purposes,  by  the  Trus- 
tees of  the  School,  for  the  boys.  The  footpath  to 
Browns'  over  crosses  the  river  by  "the  Planks,"  a 
curious  old  single-plank  bridge,  running  for  fifty  or 
sixty  yards  into  the  flat  meadows  on  each  side  of  the 
river, — for  in  the  winter  there  are  frequent  floods. 
Above  the  Planks  were  the  bathing  places  for  the 
smaller  boys  ;  Sleath's,  the  first  bathing  place  where  all 
new  boys  had  to  begin,  until  they  had  proved  to  the 
bathing  men  (three  steady  individuals  who  were  paid 
to  attend  daily  through  the  summer  to  prevent  acci- 
dents) that  they  could  swim  pretty  decently,  when  they 
were  allowed  to  go  on  to  Anstey's,  about  one  hundred 

16 


242  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  fifty  yards  below.  Here  there  was  a  hole  about 
six  feet  deep  and  twelve  feet  across,  over  which  the 
puffing  urchins  struggled  to  the  opposite  side,  and 
thought  no  small  beer  of  themselves  for  having  been 
out  of  their  depths.  Below  the  Planks  came  larger 
and  deeper  holes,  the  first  of  which  was  Wratislaw's, 
and  the  last  Swift's,  a  famous  hole,  ten  or  twelve  feet 
deep  in  parts,  and  thirty  yards  across,  from  which 
there  was  a  fine  swimming  reach  right  down  to  the 
Mill.  Swift's  was  reserved  for  the  sixth  and  fifth 
forms,  and  had  a  spring  board  and  two  sets  of  steps  : 
the  others  had  one  set  of  steps  each,  and  were  used 
indifferently  by  all  the  lower  boys,  though  each  house 
addicted  itself  more  to  one  hole  than  to  another.  The 
School-house  at  this  time  affected  Wratislaw's  hole, 
and  Tom  and  East,  who  had  learnt  to  swim  like  fishes, 
were  to  be  found  there  as  regular  as  the  clock  through 
the  summer,  always  twice,  and  often  three  times  a 
day. 

Now  the  boys  either  had,  or  fancied  they  had,  a 
right  also  to  fish  at  their  pleasure  over  the  whole  of 
this  part  of  the  river,  and  would  not  understand  that 
the  right  (if  any)  only  extended  to  the  Rugby  side. 
As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  the  gentlemen  who  owned 
the  opposite  bank,  after  allowing  it  for  some  time  with- 
out interference,  had  ordered  his  keepers  not  to  let  the 
boys  fish  on  his  side ;  the  consequence  of  which  had 
been,  that  there  had  been  first  wranglings  and  then 
fights  between  the  keepers  and  boys ;  and  so  keen  had 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  243 

the  quarrel  become,  that  the  landlord  and  his  keepers, 
after  a  ducking  had  been  inflicted  on  one  of  the  latter, 
and  a  fierce  fight  ensued  thereon,  had  been  up  to  the 
great  School  at  calling-over  to  identify  the  delinquents, 
and  it  was  all  the  Doctor  himself  and  five  or  six  mas- 
ters could  do  to  keep  the  peace.  Not  even  his  au- 
thority could  prevent  the  hissing ;  and  so  strong 
was  the  feeling,  that  the  four  praepostors  of  the  week 
walked  up  the  school  with  their  canes,  shouting 
S-s-s-s-i-lenc-c-c-c-e  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  How- 
ever, the  chief  offenders  for  the  time  were  flogged  and 
kept  in  bounds,  but  the  victorious  party  had  bi-ought  a 
nice  hornets'  nest  about  their  ears.  The  landlord  was 
hissed  at  the  School  gates  as  he  rode  past,  and  when 
he  charged  his  horse  at  the  mob  of  boys,  and  tried  to 
thrash  them  with  his  whip,  was  driven  back  by  cricket- 
bats  and  wickets,  and  pursued  with  pebbles  and  fives'- 
balls  ;  while  the  wretched  keepers'  lives  were  a  burthen 
to  them,  from  having  to  watch  the  waters  so  closely. 

The  School-house  boys  of  Tom's  standing,  one  and 
all  as  a  protest  against  this  tyranny  and  cutting  short 
of  their  lawful  amusements,  took  to  fishing  in  all  ways 
and  especially  by  means  of  night-lines.  The  little 
tackle-maker  at  the  bottom  of  the  town  would  soon 
have  made  his  fortune  had  the  rage  lasted,  and  several 
of  the  barbers  began  to  lay  in  fishing-tackles.  The 
boys  had  this  great  advantage  over  their  enemies,  that 
they  spent  a  large  portion  of  the  day  in  nature's  garb 
by  the  river  side,  and  so,  when  tired  of  swimming, 


244  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

would  get  out  on  the  other  side  and  fish,  or  set  night- 
lines  till  the  keeper  hove  in  sight,  and  then  plunge  in 
and  swim  back  and  mix  with  the  other  bathers,  and 
the  keepers  were  too  wise  to  follow  across  the  stream. 

While  things  were  in  this  state,  one  day  Tom  and 
three  or  four  others  were  bathing  at  Wratislaw's,  and 
had,  as  a  matter  of  course,  been  taking  up  and  re- 
setting night-lines.  They  had  all  left  the  water,  and 
were  sitting  or  standing  about  at  their  toilets,  in  all 
costumes  from  a  shirt  upwards,  when  they  were  aware 
of  a  man  in  a  velveteen  shooting-coat  approaching  from 
the  other  side.  He  was  a  new  keeper,  so  they  didn't 
recognise  or  notice  him,  till  he  pulled  up  right  opposite, 
and  began : — 

"  I  see'd  some  of  you  young  gentleman  over  this 
side  a  fishing  just  now." 

"  Hullo,  who  are  you  ?  what  business  is  that  of 
yours,  old  Velveteens?" 

"  I'm  the  new  under-keeper,  and  master's  told  me 
to  keep  a  sharp  look-out  on  all  o'  you  young  chaps. 
And  I  tells  'ee  I  means  business,  and  you'd  better  keep 
on  your  own  side,  or  we  shall  fall  out." 

"  Well,  that's  right,  Velveteens — speak  out,  and  let's 
know  your  mind  at  once." 

"Look  here,  old  boy,"  cried  East,  holding  up  a 
miserable  coarse  fish  or  two  and  a  small  jack,  "would 
you  like  to  smell  'em  and  see  which  bank  they  lived 
under?" 

"I'll  give  you  a  bit  of  advice,  keeper,"  shouted 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  245 

Tom,  who  was  sitting  in  his  shirt  paddling  with  his 
feet  in  the  river;  "you'd  better  go  down  there  to 
Swift's,  where  the  big  boys  are,  they're  beggars  at  set- 
ting lines,  and  '11  put  you  up  to  a  wrinkle  or  two  for 
catching  the  five-pounders."  Tom  was  nearest  to  the 
keeper,  and  that  officer,  who  was  getting  angry  at  the 
chaff,  fixed  his  eyes  on  our  hero,  as  if  to  take  a  note 
of  him  for  future  use.  Tom  returned  his  gaze  with  a 
steady  stare,  and  then  broke  into  a  laugh,  and  struck 
into  the  middle  of  a  favorite  School-house  song — 

As  I  and  my  companions 

Were  setting  of  a  snare, 
The  gamekeeper  was  watching  us, 

For  him  we  did  not  care : 
For  we  can  wrestle  and  fight,  my  boys, 
And  jump  out  any  where. 

For  it's  my  delight  of  a  likely  night, 
In  the  season  of  the  year. 

The  chorus  was  taken  up  by  the  other  boys  with 
shouts  of  laughter,  and  the  keeper  turned  away  with 
a  grunt,  but  evidently  bent  on  mischief.  The  boys 
thought  no  more  of  the  matter. 

But  now  came  on  the  may-fly  season ;  the  soft  hazy 
summer  weather  lay  sleepily  along  the  rich  meadows 
by  Avon  side,  and  the  green  and  grey  flies  flickered 
with  their  graceful  lazy  up  and  down  flight  over  the 
reeds  and  the  water  and  the  meadows,  in  myriads  upon 
myriads.  The  may-flies  must  surely  be  the  lotus-eaters 
of  the  ephemerae  ;  the  happiest,  laziest,  carelessest  fly 


246  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

that  dances  and  dreams  out  bis  few  hours  of  sunshiny 
life  by  English  rivers. 

Every  little  pitiful  coarse  fish  in  the  Avon  was  on 
the  alert  for  the  flies,  and  gorging  his  wretched  carcase 
with  hundreds  daily,  the  gluttonous  rogues  !  and  every 
lover  of  the  gentle  craft  was  out  to  avenge  the  poor 
may-flies. 

So  one  fine  Thursday  afternoon,  Tom  having  bor- 
rowed East's  new  rod,  started  by  himself  to  the  river. 
He  fished  for  some  time  with  small  success,  not  a  fish 
would  rise  at  him ;  but,  as  he  prowled  along  the  bank, 
he  was  presently  aware  of  mighty  ones  feeding  in  a 
pool  on  the  opposite  side,  under  the  shade  of  a  huge 
willow-tree.  The  stream  was  deep  here,  but  some  fifty 
yards  below  was  a  shallow,  for  which  he  made  off  hot- 
foot ;  and  forgetting  landlords,  keepers,  solemn  prohibi- 
tions of  the  Doctor,  and  everything  else,  pulled  up  his 
trousers,  plunged  across,  and  in  three  minutes  was 
creeping  along  on  all  fours  towards  the  clump  of 
willows. 

It  isn't  often  that  great  chub,  or  any  other  coarse 
fish  are  in  earnest  about  anything,  but  just  then  they 
were  thoroughly  bent  on  feeding,  and  in  half-an-hour 
Master  Tom  had  deposited  three  thumping  fellows  at 
the  foot  of  the  giant  willow.  As  he  was  baiting  for  a 
fourth  pounder,  and  just  going  to  throw  in  again,  he 
became  aware  of  a  man  coming  up  the  bank  not  one 
hundred  yards  off.  Another  look  told  him  that  it  was 
the  under-keeper.  Could  he  reach  the  shallow  before 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  247 

him  ?  No,  not  carrying  his  rod.  Nothing  for  it  hut 
the  tree  :  so  Tom  laid  his  bones  to  it,  shinning  up  as 
fast  as  he  could,  and  dragging  up  his  rod  after  him. 
He  had  just  time  to  reach  and  crouch  along  upon  a 
huge  branch  some  ten  feet  up,  which  stretched  out  over 
the  river,  when  the  keeper  arrived  at  the  clump. 
Tom's  heart  beat  fast  as  he  came  under  the  tree ;  two 
steps  more  and  he  would  have  passed,  when,  as  ill-luck 
would  have  it,  the  gleam  on  the  scales  of  the  dead  fish 
caught  his  eyes,  and  he  made  a  dead  point  at  the  foot 
of  the  tree.  He  picked  up  the  fish  one  by  one;  his 
eye  and  touch  told  him  that  they  had  been  alive  and 
feeding  within  the  hour.  Tom  crouched  lower  along 
the  branch,  and  heard  the  keeper  beating  the  clump. 
"  If  I  could  only  get  the  rod  hidden,"  thought  he,  and 
began  gently  shifting  it  to  get  it  alongside  him ;  "  wil- 
low-trees don't  throw  out  straight  hickory  shoots 
twelve  feet  long,  with  no  leaves,  worse  luck."  Alas  ! 
the  keeper  catches  the  rustle,  and  then  a  sight  of  the 
rod,  and  then  of  Tom's  hand  and  arm. 

"Oh,  be  up  ther'  be  'ee?"  says  he,  running  under 
the  tree.  "Now  you  come  down  this  minute." 

"  Tree'd  at  last,"  thinks  Tom,  making  no  answer, 
and  keeping  as  close  as  possible,  but  working  away  at 
the  rod,  which  he  takes  to  pieces  :  "  I'm  in  for  it,  un- 
less I  can  starve  him  out."  And  then  he  begins  to 
meditate  getting  along  the  branch  for  a  plunge  and 
scramble  to  the  other  side ;  but  the  small  branches  are 
so  thick,  and  the  opposite  bank  so  difficult,  that  the 


248  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

keeper  will  have  lots  of  time  to  get  round  by  the  ford 
before  he  can  get  out,  so  he  gives  that  up.  And  now 
he  hears  the  keeper  beginning  to  scramble  up  the 
trunk.  That  will  never  do ;  so  he  scrambles  himself 
back  to  where  his  branch  joins  the  trunk,  and  stands 
with  lifted  rod. 

"  Hullo,  Velveteens,  mind  your  fingers  if  you  come 
any  higher." 

The  keeper  stops  and  looks  up,  and  then  with  a  grin 
says,  u  Oh  !  be  you,  be  it,  young  measter  ?  Well, 
here's  luck.  Now  I  tells  'ee  to  come  down  at  once, 
and  't'll  be  best  for  'ee." 

"  Thank'ee,  Velveteens,  I'm  very  comfortable," 
said  Tom,  shortening  the  rod  in  his  hand,  and  prepar- 
ing for  battle. 

"  Werry  well,  please  yourself,"  says  the  keeper,  de- 
scending however  to  the  ground  again,  and  taking  his 
seat  on  the  bank  ;  "  I  bean't  in  no  hurry,  so  you  med 
take  your  time.  I'll  larn  'ee  to  gee  honest  folk  names 
afore  I've  done  with  'ee." 

"My  luck  as  usual,"  thinks  Tom  ;  "what  a  fool  I 
was  to  give  him  a  black.  If  I'd  called  him  '  keeper' 
now  I  might  get  off.  The  return  match  is  all  his 
way." 

The  keeper  quietly  proceeded  to  take  out  his  pipe, 
fill,  and  light  it,  keeping  an  eye  on  Tom,  who  now  sat 
disconsolately  across  the  branch,  looking  at  keeper — 
a  pitiful  sight  for  men  and  fishes.  The  more  he 
thought  of  it  the  less  he  liked  it.  "  It  must  be  getting 


TURRET  OF  DR.  ARNOLD'S  HOUSE,  RUGBY 


A   CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  249 

near  second  calling-over,"  thinks  he.  Keeper  smokes 
on  stolidly.  "  If  he  takes  me  up,  I  shall  be  flogged 
safe  enough.  I  can't  sit  here  all  night.  Wonder  if 
he'll  rise  at  silver. 

"  I  say,  keeper,"  said  he  meekly,  "  let  me  go  for 
two  bob  ?" 

"Not  for  twenty  neither,"  grunts  his  persecutor. 

And  so  they  sat  on  till  long  past  second  calling-over, 
and  the  sun  came  slanting  in  through  the  willow- 
branches,  and  telling  of  locking-up  near  at  hand. 

"I'm  coming  down,  keeper,"  said  Tom  at  last  with 
a  sigh,  fairly  tired  out.  "Now  what  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

"  Walk  'ee  up  to  School,  and  give  'ee  over  to  the 
Doctor;  them's  my  orders,"  says  Velveteens,  knock- 
ing the  ashes  out  of  his  fourth  pipe,  and  standing  up 
and  shaking  himself. 

"Very  good,"  said  Tom;  "but  hands  off,  you 
know.  I'll  go  with  you  quietly,  so  no  collaring  or  that 
sort  of  thing." 

Keeper  looked  at  him  a  minute — "  Werry  good," 
said  he  at  last ;  and  so  Tom  descended,  and  wended 
his  way  drearily  by  the  side  of  the  keeper  up  to  the 
School-house,  where  they  arrived  just  at  locking-up. 
As  they  passed  the  School-gates,  the  Tadpole  and 
several  others  who  were  standing  there  caught  the 
state  of  things,  and  rushed  out,  crying  "Rescue  !"  but 
Tom  shook  his  head,  so  they  only  followed  to  the 
Doctor's  gate,  and  went  back  sorely  puzzled. 


250  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

How  changed  and  stern  the  Doctor  seemed  from  the 
last  time  that  Tom  was  up  there,  as  the  keeper  told 
the  story,  not  omitting  to  state  how  Tom  had  called 
him  blackguard  names.  "  Indeed,  sir,"  broke  in  the 
culprit,  "it  was  only  Velveteens."  The  Doctor  only 
asked  one  question. 

"  You  know  the  rule  about  the  banks,  Brown?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  wait  for  me  to-morrow,  after  first  lesson." 

"  I  thought  so,"  muttered  Tom. 

"And  about  the  rod,  sir?"  went  on  the  keeper; 
"  Master's  told  we  as  we  might  have  all  the  rods — " 

"  Oh,  please,  sir,"  broke  in  Tom,  the  rod  isn't 
mine."  The  Doctor  looked  puzzled,  but  the  keeper, 
who  was  a  good-hearted  fellow,  and  melted  at  Tom's 
evident  distress,  gave  up  his  claim.  Tom  was  flogged 
next  morning,  and  a  few  days  afterwards  met  Velvet- 
eens, and  presented  him  with  half-a-crown  for  giving 
up  the  rod  claim,  and  they  became  sworn  friends  ;  and 
I  regret  to  say  that  Torn  had  many  more  fish  from 
under  the  willow  that  may-fly  season,  and  was  never 
caught  again  by  Velveteens. 

It  wasn't  three  weeks  before  Tom,  and  now  East  by 
his  side,  were  again  in  the  awful  presence.  This  time, 
however,  the  Doctor  was  not  so  terrible.  A  few  days 
before,  they  had  been  fagged  at  fives  to  fetch  the  balls 
that  went  off  the  court.  While  standing  watching  the 
game,  they  saw  five  or  six  nearly  new  balls  hit  on  the 
top  of  the  School.  "I  say,  Tom,"  said  East,  when 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  251 

they  were  dismissed,  "couldn't  we  get  those  balls 
somehow  ?" 

"Let's  try,  anyhow." 

So  they  reconnoitred  the  walls  carefully,  borrowed 
a  coal  hammer  from  old  Stumps,  bought  some  big 
nails,  and  after  one  or  two  attempts,  scaled  the 
Schools,  and  possessed  themselves  of  huge  quantities 
of  fives'  balls.  The  place  pleased  them  so  much  that 
they  spent  all  their  spare  time  there,  scratching  and 
cutting  their  names  on  the  top  of  every  tower ;  and  at 
last,  having  exhausted  all  other  places,  finished  up 
with  inscribing  H.  EAST,  T.  BROWN,  on  the  minute- 
hand  of  the  great  clock.  In  the  doing  of  which  they 
held  the  minute-hand,  and  disturbed  the  clock's 
economy.  So  next  morning,  when  masters  and  boys 
came  trooping  down  to  prayers,  and  entered  the  quad- 
rangle, the  injured  rninute-hand  was  indicating  three 
minutes  to  the  hour.  They  all  pulled  up,  and  took 
their  time.  When  the  hour  struck,  doors  were  closed, 
and  half  the  school  late.  Thomas  being  sent  to  make 
inquiry,  discovers  their  names  on  the  minute-hand, 
and  reports  accordingly ;  and  they  are  sent  for,  a  knot 
of  their  friends  making  derisive  and  pantomimic  allu- 
sions to  what  their  fate  will  be,  as  they  walk  off. 

But  the  Doctor,  after  hearing  their  story,  doesn't 
make  much  of  it,  and  only  gives  them  thirty  lines  of 
Homer  to  learn  by  heart,  and  a  lecture  on  the  likeli- 
hood of  such  exploits  ending  in  broken  bones. 

Alas !  almost  the  next  day  was  one  of  the  great 


252  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

fairs  in  the  town  ;  and  as  several  rows  and  other  dis- 
agreeable accidents  had  of  late  taken  place  on  these 
occasions,  the  Doctor  gives  out,  after  prayers  in  the 
morning,  that  no  boy  is  to  go  down  into  the  town. 
Wherefore  East  and  Tom,  for  no  earthly  pleasure 
except  that  of  doing  what  they  are  told  not  to  do,  start 
away,  after  second  lesson,  and  making  a  short  circuit 
through  the  fields,  strike  a  back  lane  which  leads  into 
the  town,  go  down  it,  and  run  plump  upon  one  of  the 
masters  as  they  emerge  into  the  High  Street.  The 
master  in  question,  though  a  very  clever,  is  not  a 
righteous  man :  he  has  already  caught  several  of  his 
own  pupils,  and  gives  them  lines  to  learn,  while  he 
sends  East  and  Tom,  who  are  not  his  pupils,  up  to  the 
Doctor ;  who,  on  learning  that  they  had  been  at 
prayers  in  the  morning,  flogs  them  soundly. 

The  flogging  did  them  no  good  at  the  time,  for  the 
injustice  of  their  captor  was  rankling  in  their  minds  ; 
but  it  Avas  just  at  the  end  of  the  half,  and  on  the  next 
evening  but  one  Thomas  knocks  at  their  door,  and 
says  the  Doctor  wants  to  see  them.  They  look  at  one 
another  in  silent  dismay.  What  can  it  be  now  ? 
Which  of  their  countless  wrong-doings  can  he  have 
heard  of  officially  ?  However,  it  is  no  use  delaying, 
so  up  they  go  to  the  study.  There  they  find  the 
Doctor,  not  angry,  but  very  grave.  "  Pie  has  sent  for 
them  to  speak  very  seriously  before  they  go  home. 
They  have  each  been  flogged  several  times  in  the  half- 
year  for  direct  and  wilful  breaches  of  rules.  This 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS.  253 

cannot  go  on.  They  are  doing  no  good  to  themselves 
or  others,  and  now  they  are  getting  up  in  the  School, 
and  have  influence.  They  seem  to  think  that  rules 
are  made  capriciously,  and  for  the  pleasure  of  the 
masters ;  but  this  is  not  so,  they  are  made  for  the  good 
of  the  whole  School,  and  must  and  shall  be  obeyed. 
Those  who  thoughtlessly  or  wilfully  break  them  will 
not  be  allowed  to  stay  at  the  School.  He  should  be 
sorry  if  they  had  to  leave,  as  the  School  might  do 
them  both  much  good,  and  wishes  them  to  think  very 
seriously  in  the  holidays  over  what  he  has  said.  Good 
night." 

And  so  the  two  hurry  off  horribly  scared :  the  idea 
of  having  to  leave  has  never  crossed  their  minds,  and 
is  quite  unbearable. 

As  they  go  out,  they  meet  at  the  door  old  Holmes, 
a  sturdy  cheery  praepostor  of  another  house,  who  goes 
in  to  the  Doctor;  and  they  hear  his  genial  hearty 
greeting  of  the  new-comer,  so  different  to  their  own 
reception,  as  the  door  closes,  and  return  to  their  study 
with  heavy  hearts,  and  tremendous  resolves  to  break 
no  more  rules. 

Five  minutes  afterwards  the  master  of  their  form,  a 
late  arrival  and  a  model  young  master,  knocks  at  the 
Doctor's  study-door.  "  Come  in !"  and  as  he  enters 
the  Doctor  goes  on,  to  Holmes — "  you  see  I  do  not 
know  anything  of  the  case  officially,  and  if  I  take 
any  notice  of  it  at  all,  I  must  publicly  expel  the  boy. 
I  don't  want  to  do  that,  for  I  think  there  is  some  good 


254  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

in  him.  There's  nothing  for  it  but  a  good  sound 
thrashing."  He  paused  to  shake  hands  with  the  mas- 
ter, Avhich  Holmes  does  also,  and  then  prepares  to 
leave. 

"  I  understand.     Good  night,  sir." 

"  Good  night,  Holmes.  And  remember,"  added 
the  Doctor,  emphasizing  the  words,  "  a  good  sound 
thrashing  before  the  whole  house." 

The  door  closed  on  Holmes ;  and  the  Doctor,  in  an- 
swer to  the  puzzled  look  of  his  lieutenant,  explained 
shortly.  "A  gross  case  of  bullying.  Wharton,  the 
head  of  the  house,  is  a  very  good  fellow,  but  slight 
and  weak,  and  severe  physical  pain  is  the  only  way 
to  deal  with  such  a  case ;  so  I  have  asked  Holmes 
to  take  it  up.  He  is  very  careful  and  trustworthy, 
and  has  plenty  of  strength.  I  wish  all  the  sixth 
had  as  much.  We  must  have  it  here,  if  we  are  to 
keep  order  at  all." 

Now  I  don't  want  any  wiseacres  to  read  this  book  ; 
but  if  they  should,  of  course  they  will  prick  up  their 
long  ears,  arid  howl,  or  rather  bray,  at  the  above 
story.  Very  good,  I  don't  object ;  but  what  I  have 
to  add  for  you  boys  is  this :  that  Holmes  called  a  levy 
of  his  house  after  breakfast  next  morning,  made  them 
a  speech  on  the  case  of  bullying  in  question,  and  then 
gave  the  bully  a  "good  sound  thrashing;"  and  that 
years  afterwards,  that  boy  sought  out  Holmes,  and 
thanked  him,  saying  it  had  been  the  kindest  act 
which  had  ever  been  done  upon  him,  and  the  turn- 


A  CHAPTER  OF   ACCIDENTS.  255 

ing-point  in  bis  character ;  and  a  very  good  fellow 
he  became,  and  a  credit  to  his  School. 

After  some  other  talk  between  them,  the  Doctor 
said,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  two  boys  in 
your  form,  East  and  Brown :  I  have  just  been  speak- 
ing to  them.  What  do  you  think  of  them  ?" 

"Well,  they  are  not  hard  workers,  and  very 
thoughtless  and  full  of  spirits — but  I  can't  help 
liking  them.  I  think  they  are  sound  good  fellows 
at  the  bottom." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it.  I  think  so  too.  But  they  make 
me  very  uneasy.  They  are  taking  the  lead  a  good 
deal  amongst  the  fags  in  my  house,  for  they  are  very 
active,  bold  fellows.  I  should  be  sorry  to  lose  them, 
but  I  shan't  let  them  stay  if  I  don't  see  them  gain- 
ing character  and  manliness.  In  another  year  they 
may  do  great  harm  to  all  the  younger  boys." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  you  won't  send  them  away,"  pleaded 
their  master. 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it.  But  now  I  never  feel  sure, 
after  any  half-holiday,  that  I  shan't  have  to  flog  one 
of  them  next  morning  for  some  foolish,  thoughtless 
scrape.  I  quite  dread  seeing  either  of  them." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  minute.  Presently 
the  Doctor  began  again  : — 

"  They  don't  feel  that  they  have  any  duty  or  work 
to  do  in  the  School,  and  how  is  one  to  make  them 
feel  it?" 

"  I  think  if  either  of  them  had  some  little  boy  to 


256  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

take  care  of,  it  would  steady  them.  Brown  is  the 
most  reckless  of  the  two,  I  should  say ;  East  wouldn't 
get  into  so  many  scrapes  without  him." 

"Well,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  something  like  a 
sigh,  "I'll  think  of  it."  And  they  went  on  to  talk 
of  other  subjects. 


TOM  BROWN'S   SCHOOL  DAYS. 

PART  II. 


"  I  [hold]  it  truth,  with  him  who  sings 
To  one  clear  harp  in  divers  tones, 
That  men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 

TENNYSON. 


SPREAD  EAGLE  INN,  RUGBY 


CHAPTER    I. 

HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED. 

"  Once  to  every  man  and  nation,  conies  the  moment  to  decide, 
lu  the  strife  of  Truth  with  Falsehood,  for  the  good  or  evil  side : 
^  %  -'•'-  ~  ?j 

Then  it  is  the  brave  man  chooses,  while  the  coward  stands  aside, 
Doubting  in  his  abject  spirit,  till  his  Lord  is  crucified." 

LOWELL. 

THE  turning-point  in  our  hero's  school  career  had 
now  come,  and  the  manner  of  it  was  as  follows.  On  the 
evening  of  the  first  day  of  the  next  half-year,  Tom, 
East,  and  another  School-house  boy,  who  had  just 
been  dropped  at  the  Spread  Eagle  by  the  old  Regu- 
lator, rushed  into  the  matron's  room  in  high  spirits, 
such  as  all  real  boys  are  in  when  they  first  get  back, 
however  fond  they  may  be  of  home. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Wixie,"  shouted  one,  seizing  on  the 
methodical,  active  little  dark-eyed  woman,  who  was 
busy  stowing  away  the  linen  of  the  boys  who  had 
already  arrived  into  their  several  pigeon-holes,  "  here 
we  are  again,  you  see,  as  jolly  as  ever.  Let  us  help 
you  put  the  things  'away." 

"And,  Mary,"  cried  another  (she  wras  called  indif- 
ferently by  either  name),  "  who's  come  back  ?  Has 
the  Doctor  made  old  Jones  leave?  How  many  new 
boys  are  there?" 

259 


260  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Am  I  and  East  to  have  Gray's  study?  You 
know  you  promised  to  get  it  for  us  if  you  could," 
shouted  Tom. 

"And  am  I  to  sleep  in  Number  4  ?"  roared  East. 

"  How's  old  Sam,  and  Bogle,  and  Sally  ?" 

"Bless  the  boys!"  cries  Mary,  at  last  getting  in  a 
word,  "  why,  you'll  shake  me  to  death.  There  now, 
do  go  away  up  to  the  housekeeper's  room  and  get  your 
suppers ;  you  know  I  haven't  time  to  talk — you'll 
find  plenty  more  in  the  house.  Now,  Master  East, 
do  let  those  things  alone — you're  mixing  up  three 
new  boys'  things."  And  she  rushed  at  East,  who 
escaped  round  the  open  trunks  holding  up  a  prize. 

"  Hullo,  look  here,  Tommy,"  shouted  he,  "  here's 
fun !"  and  he  brandished  above  his  head  some  pretty 
little  night-caps,  beautifully  made  and  marked,  the 
work  of  loving  fingers  in  some  distant  country  home. 
The  kind  mother  and  sisters,  who  sewed  that  delicate 
stitching  with  aching  hea'rts,  little  thought  of  the 
trouble  they  might  be  bringing  on  the  young  head 
for  which  they  were  meant.  The  little  matron  was 
wiser,  and  snatched  the  caps  from  East  before  he 
could  look  at  the  name  on  them. 

"  Now,  Master  East,  I  shall  be  very  angry  if  you 
don't  go,"  said  she ;  "  there's  some  capital  cold  beef 
and  pickles  up-stairs,  and  I  won't  have  you  old  boys 
in  my  room  first  night." 

"  Hurrah  for  the  pickles  !  Come  filong,  Tommy ; 
come  along  Smith.  We  shall  find  out  who  the  young 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED.  261 

Count  is,  I'll  be  bound  :  I  hope  he'll  sleep  in  my  room. 
Mary's  always  vicious  first  week." 

As  the  boys  turned  to  leave  the  room,  the  matron 
touched  Tom's  arm,  and  said,  "  Master  Brown,  please 
stop  a  minute,  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Very  well,  Mary.  I'll  corne  in  a  minute :  East, 
don't  finish  the  pickles — " 

*'  Oh,  Master  Brown,"  went  on  the  little  matron, 
when  the  rest  had  gone,  "you're  to  have  Gray's  study, 
Mrs.  Arnold  says.  And  she  wants  you  to  take  in  this 
young  gentleman.  He's  a  new  boy,  and  thirteen  years 
old,  though  he  don't  look  it.  He's  very  delicate,  and 
has  never  been  from  home  before.  And  I  told  Mrs. 
Arnold  I  thought  you'd  be  kind  to  him.  and  see  that 
they  don't  bully  him  at  first.  He's  put  into  your 
form,  and  I've  given  him  the  bed  next  to  yours  in 
Number  4 ;  so  East  can't  sleep  there  this  half." 

Tom  was  rather  put  about  by  this  speech.  He  had 
got  the  double  study  which  he  coveted,  but  here  were 
conditions  attached  which  greatly  moderated  his  joy. 
He  looked  across  the  room,  and  in  the  far  corner  of 
the  sofa  was  aware  of  a  slight  pale  boy,  with  large 
blue  eyes  and  light  fair  hair,  who  seemed  ready  to 
shrink  through  the  floor.  He  saw  at  a  glance  that 
the  little  stranger  was  just  the  boy  whose  first  half- 
year  at  a  public  school  would  be  misery  to  himself 
if  he  were  left  alone,  or  constant  anxiety  to  any  one 
who  meant  to  see  him  through  his  troubles.  Tom  was 
too  honest  to  take  in  the  youngster  and  then  let  him 


262  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

shift  for  himself;  and  if  he  took  him  as  his  chum  in- 
stead of  East,  where  Avere  all  his  pet  plans  of  having 
a  bottled-beer  cellar  under  his  window,  and  making 
night-lines  and  slings,  and  plotting  expeditions  to 
Brownsover  Mills  and  Caldecott's  Spinney?  East  and 
he  had  made  up  their  minds  to  get  this  study,  and 
then  every  night  from  locking-up  till  ten  they  would 
be  together  to  talk  about  fishing,  drink  bottled  beer, 
read  Marryat's  novels,  and  sort  birds'  eggs.  And 
this  new  boy  would  most  likely  never  go  out  of  the 
close,  and  would  be  afraid  of  wet  feet,  and  always 
getting  laughed  at  and  called  Molly,  or  Jenny,  or 
some  derogatory  feminine  nickname. 

The  matron  watched  him  for  a  moment,  and  saw 
what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  so,  like  a  wise  nego- 
tiator, threw  in  an  appeal  to  his  warm  heart.  "  Poor 
little  fellow,"  said  she  in  almost  a  whisper,  "his 
father's  dead,  and  he's  got  no  brothers.  And  his 
mamma,  such  a  kind  sweet  lady,  almost  broke  her 
heart  at  leaving  him  this  morning ;  and  she  said  one 
of  his  sisters  was  like  to  die  of  decline,  and  so " 

"Well,  well,"  burst  in  Tom,  with  something  like  a 
sigh  at  the  effort,  "  I  suppose  I  must  give  up  East. 
Come  along,  young  un.  What's  your  name  ?  We'll  go 
and  have  some  supper,  and  then  I'll  show  you  our  study." 

"His  name's  George  Arthur,"  said  the  matron, 
walking  up  to  him  with  Tom,  who  grasped  his  little  del- 
icate hand  as  the  proper  preliminary  to  making  a  chum 
of  him,  and  felt  as  if  he  could  have  blown  him  away. 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED.  263 

"  I've  had  his  books  and  things  put  into  the  study, 
which  his  mamma  has  had  new  papered,  and  the  sofa 
covered,  and  new  green  baize  curtains  over  the  door" 
(the  diplomatic  matron  threw  this  in,  to  show  that  the 
new  boy  was  contributing  largely  to  the  partnership 
comforts).  "And  Mrs.  Arnold  told  me  to  say,"  she 
added,  "  that  she  should  like  you  both  to  come  up 
to  tea  with  her.  You  know  the  way,  Master  Brown, 
and  the  things  are  just  gone  up,  I  know." 

Here  was  an  announcement  for  Master  Tom !  He 
was  to  go  up  to  tea  the  first  night,  just  as  if  he  were  a 
sixth  or  fifth-form  boy,  and  of  importance  in  the  school 
world,  instead  of  the  most  reckless  young  scapegrace 
amongst  the  fags.  He  felt  himself  lifted  on  to  a  higher 
social  and  moral  platform  at  once.  Nevertheless,  he 
couldn't  give  up  without  a  sigh  the  idea  of  the  jolly 
supper  in  the  housekeeper's  room  with  East  and  the 
rest,  and  a  rush  round  to  all  the  studies  of  his  friends 
afterwards,  to  pour  out  the  deeds  and  wonders  of  the 
holidays,  to  plot  fifty  plans  for  the  coming  half-year, 
and  to  gather  news  of  who  had  left,  and  what  new 
boys  had  come,  who  had  got  who's  study,  and  where 
the  new  praepostors  slept.  However,  Tom  consoled 
himself  with  thinking  that  he  couldn't  have  done  all 
this  with  the  new  boy  at  his  heels,  and  so  marched  off 
along  the  passages  to  the  Doctor's  private  house  with 
his  young  charge  in  tow,  in  monstrous  good  humor 
with  himself  and  all  the  world. 

It  is  needless,  and  would  be  impertinent,  to  tell  how 


264  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  two  young  boys  were  received  in  that  drawing- 
room.  The  lady  who  presided  there  is  still  living, 
and  has  carried  with  her  to  her  peaceful  home  in  the 
North  the  respect  and  love  of  all  those  who  ever  felt 
and  shared  that  gentle  and  high-bred  hospitality.  Ay, 
many  is  the  brave  heart  now  doing  its  work  and  bearing 
its  load  in  country  curacies,  London  chambers,  under 
the  Indian  sun,  and  in  Australian  towns  and  clearings, 
which  looks  back  with  fond  and  grateful  memory  to 
that  School-house  drawing-room,  and  dates  much  of  its 
highest  and  best  training  to  the  lessons  learnt  there. 

Besides  Mrs.  Arnold  and  one  or  two  of  the  elder 
children,  there  were  one  of  the  younger  masters,  young 
Brooke — Avho  was  now  in  the  sixth,  and  had  succeeded 
to  his  brother's  position  and  influence — and  another 
sixth-form  boy  there,  talking  together  before  the  fire. 
The  master  and  young  Brooke,  now  a  great  strapping 
fellow  six  feet  high,  eighteen  years  old,  and  powerful 
as  a  coal-heaver,  nodded  kindly  to  Tom,  to  his  intense 
glory,  and  then  went  on  talking ;  the  other  did  not 
notice  them.  The  hostess,  after  a  few  kind  words, 
which  led  the  boys  at  once  and  insensibly  to  feel  at 
their  ease,  and  to  begin  talking  to  one  another,  left 
them  with  her  own  children  while  she  finished  a  letter. 
The  young  ones  got  on  fast  and  well,  Tom  holding 
forth  about  a  prodigious  pony  he  had  been  riding  out 
hunting,  and  hearing  stories  of  the  winter  glories  of 
the  lakes,  when  tea  came  in,  and  immediately  after  the 
Doctor  himself. 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED.  265 

How  frank,  and  kind,  and  manly,  was  his  greeting 
to  the  party  by  the  fire  !  It  did  Tom's  heart  good  to 
see  him  and  young  Brooke  shake  hands,  and  look  one 
another  in  the  face ;  and  he  didn't  fail  to  remark, 
that  Brooke  was  nearly  as  tall,  and  quite  as  broad  as 
the  Doctor.  And  his  cup  was  full,  when  in  another 
moment  his  master  turned  to  him  with  another  warm 
shake  of  the  hand,  and,  seemingly  oblivious  of  all  the 
late  scrapes  which  he  had  been  getting  into,  said, 
"  Ah,  Brown,  you  here !  I  hope  you  left  your  father 
and  all  well  at  home?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  quite  well." 

"  And  this  is  the  little  fellow  who  is  to  share  your 
study.  Well,  he  doesn't  look  as  we  should  like  to  see 
him.  He  wants  some  Rugby  air  and  cricket.  And 
you  must  take  him  some  good  long  walks,  to  Bilton 
Grange  and  Caldecott's  Spinney,  and  show  him  what 
a  little  pretty  country  we  have  about  here." 

Tom  wondered  if  the  Doctor  knew  that  his  visits  to 
Bilton  Grange  were  for  the  purpose  of  taking  rooks' 
nests  (a  proceeding  strongly  discountenanced  by  the 
owner  thereof),  and  those  to  Caldecott's  Spinney  were 
prompted  chiefly  by  the  conveniences  for  setting  night- 
lines.  What  didn't  the  Doctor  know  ?  And  what  a 
noble  use  he  always  made  of  it !  He  almost  resolved 
to  abjure  rook-pies  and  night-lines  for  ever.  The  tea 
went  merrily  off,  the  Doctor  now  talking  of  holiday 
doings,  and  then  of  the  prospects  of  the  half-year, 
what  chance  there  was  for  the  Balliol  scholarship, 


266  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

whether  the  eleven  would  be  a  good  one.  Every  body 
was  at  his  ease,  and  every  body  felt  that  he,  young  as 
he  might  be,  was  of  some  use  in  the  little  school  world, 
and  had  a  work  to  do  there. 

Soon  after  tea  the  Doctor  went  off  to  his  study,  and 
the  young  boys  a  few  minutes  afterwards  took  their 
leave,  and  went  out  of  the  private  door  which  led  from 
the  Doctor's  house  into  the  middle  passage. 

At  the  fire,  at  the  further  end  of  the  passage,  was  a 
crowd  of  boys  in  loud  talk  and  laughter.  There  was 
a  sudden  pause  when  the  door  opened,  and  then  a  great 
shout  of  greeting,  as  Tom  was  recognized  marching 
down  the  passage. 

"  Hullo,  Brown,  where  do  you  come  from  ?" 

"  Oh,  I've  been  to  tea  with  the  Doctor,"  says  Tom, 
with  great  dignity. 

"  My  eye  !"  cried  East.  "  Oh  !  so  that's  why  Mary 
called  you  back,  and  you  didn't  come  to  supper.  You 
lost  something — that  beef  and  pickles  was  no  end  good." 

"  I  say,  young  fellow,"  cried  Hall,  detecting  Arthur, 
and  catching  him  by  the  collar,  "what's  your  name? 
Where  do  you  come  from?  How  old  are  you?" 

Tom  saw  Ai'thur  shrink  back,  and  look  scared  as  all 
the  group  turned  to  him,  but  thought  it  best  to  let  him 
answer,  just  standing  by  his  side  to  support  in  case  of 
need. 

"Arthur,  sir.     I  come  from  Devonshire." 

"  Don't  call  me  f  sir,'  you  young  muff.  How  old  are 
you?" 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED.  267 

"  Thirteen." 

"  Can  you  sing  ?" 

The  poor  boy  was  trembling  and  hesitating.  Tom 
struck  in — "  You  be  hanged,  Tadpole.  He'll  have  to 
sing,  whether  he  can  or  not,  Saturday  twelve  weeks, 
and  that's  long  enough  off  yet." 

"  Do  you  know  him  at  home,  Brown  ?" 

"  No ;  but  he's  my  chum  in  Gray's  old  study,  and 
it's  near  prayer  time,  and  I  haven't  had  a  look  at  it 
yet.  Come  along  Arthur." 

Away  went  the  two,  Tom  longing  to  get  his  charge 
safe  under  cover,  where  he  might  advise  him  on  his 
deportment. 

"  What  a  queer  chum  for  Tom  Brown,"  was  the 
comment  at  the  fire ;  and  it  must  be  confessed  so 
thought  Tom  himself,  as  he  lighted  his  candle,  and 
surveyed  the  new  green-baize  curtains  and  the  carpet 
and  sofa  with  much  satisfaction. 

"  I  say,  Arthur,  what  a  brick  your  mother  is  to 
make  us  so  cosy.  But  look  here  now,  you  must 
answer  straight  up  when  the  fellows  speak  to  you,  and 
don't  be  afraid.  If  you're  afraid,  you'll  get  bullied. 
And  don't  you  say  you  can  sing  ;  and  don't  you  ever 
talk  about  home,  or  your  mother  and  sisters.'' 

Poor  little  Arthur  looked  ready  to  cry. 

"But  please,"  said  he,  "mayn't  I  talk  about — 
about  home  to  you?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  like  it.  But  don't  talk  to  boys  you 
don't  know,  or  they'll  call  you  home-sick,  or  mamma's 


268  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

darling,  or  some  such  stuff.  What  a  jolly  desk  !  Is 
that  yours?  And  what  stunning  binding!  why,  your 
school-books  look  like  novels  !" 

And  Tom  was  soon  deep  in  Arthur's  goods  and  chat- 
tels, all  new  and  good  enough  for  a  fifth-form  boy,  and 
hardly  thought  of  his  friends  outside,  till  the  prayer- 
bell  rung. 

I  have  already  described  the  School-house  prayers ; 
they  were  the  same  on  the  first  night  as  on  the  other 
nights,  save  for  the  gaps  caused  by  the  absence  of  those 
boys  who  came  late,  and  the  line  of  new  boys  who 
stood  all  together  at  the  further  table — of  all  sorts  and 
sizes,  like  young  bears  with  all  their  troubles  to  come, 
as  Tom's  father  had  said  to  him  when  he  was  in  the 
same  position.  He  thought  of  it  as  he  looked  at  the 
line,  and  poor  little  slight  Arthur  standing  with  them, 
and  as  he  was  leading  him  up-stairs  to  Number  4, 
directly  after  prayers,  and  showing  him  his  bed.  It 
was  a  huge  high  airy  room,  with  two  large  windows 
looking  on  to  the  School  close.  There  were  twelve 
beds  in  the  room.  The  one  in  the  furthest  corner  by 
the  fire-place,  occupied  by  the  sixth-form  boy  who  was 
responsible  for  the  discipline  of  the  room,  and  the  rest 
by  boys  in  the  lower-fifth  and  other  junior  forms,  all 
fags  (for  the  fifth-form  boys,  as  has  been  said,  slept  in 
rooms  by  themselves).  Being  fags,  the  eldest  of  them 
was  not  more  than  about  sixteen  years  old,  and  were 
all  bound  to  be  up  and  in  bed  by  ten ;  the  sixth-form 
boys  came  to  bed  from  ten  to  a  quarter-past  (at  which 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED.  269 

time  the  old  verger  came  round  to  put  the  candles  out), 
except  when  they  sat  up  to  read. 

Within  a  few  minutes  therefore  of  their  entry,  all 
the  other  boys  who  slept  in  Number  4  had  come  up. 
The  little  fellows  went  quietly  to  their  own  beds,  and 
be^an  undressing  and  talking  to  each  other  in  wins- 

O  o  o 

pers ;  while  the  elder,  amongst  whom  was  Tom,  sat 
chatting  about  on  one  another's  beds,  Avith  their 
jackets  and  waistcoats  off.  Poor  little  Arthur  was 
overwhelmed  with  the  novelty  of  his  position.  The 
idea  of  sleeping  in  the  room  with  strange  boys  had 
clearly  never  crossed  his  mind  before,  and  was  as  pain- 
ful as  it  was  strange  to  him.  He  could  hardly  bear  to 
take  his  jacket  off;  however,  presently,  with  an  effort, 
off  it  came,  and  then  he  paused  and  looked  at  Tom, 
who  was  sitting  at  the  bottom  of  his  bed  talking  and 
laughing. 

"Please,  Brown,"  he  whispered,  "  may  I  wash  my 
face  and  hands?" 

"Of  course,  if  you  like,"  said  Tom,  staring; 
"that's  your  washhand-stand,  under  the  window, 
second  from  your  bed.  You'll  have  to  go  down  for 
more  water  in  the  morning  if  you  use  it  all."  And 
on  he  went  with  his  talk,  while  Arthur  stole  timidly 
from  between  the  beds  out  to  his  washhand-stand,  and 
began  his  ablutions,  thereby  drawing  for  a  moment  on 
himself  the  attention  of  the  room. 

On  went  the  talk  and  laughter.  Arthur  finished  his 
washing  and  undressing,  and  put  on  his  night-gown. 


270  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

He  then  looked  round  more  nervously  than  ever.  Two 
or  three  of  the  little  boys  were  already  in  bed,  sitting 
up  with  their  chins  on  their  knees.  The  light  burned 
clear,  the  noise  went  on.  It  was  a  trving  moment  for 

•/          O 

the  poor  little  lonely  boy ;  however,  this  time  he  didn't 
ask  Tom  what  he  might  or  might  not  do,  but  dropped 
on  his  knees  by  his  bedside,  as  he  had  done  every  day 
from  his  childhood,  to  open  his  heart  to  Him  who 
heareth  the  cry  and  beareth  the  sorrows  of  the  tender 
child,  and  the  strong  man  in  agony. 

Tom  was  sitting  at  the  bottom  of  his  bed  unlacing 
his  boots,  so  that  his  back  was  towards  Arthur,  and  he 
didn't  see  what  had  happened,  and  looked  up  in  wonder 
at  the  sudden  silence.  Then  two  or  three  boys  laughed 
and  sneered,  and  a  big  brutal  fellow,  who  was  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  picked  up  a  slipper,  and 
shied  it  at  the  kneeling  boy,  calling  him  a  snivelling 
young  shaver.  Then  Tom  saw  the  whole,  and  the  next 
moment  the  boot  he  had  just  pulled  off  flew  straight  at 
the  head  of  the  bully,  who  had  just  time  to  throw  up 
his  arm  and  catch  it  on  his  elbow. 

"  Confound  you,  Brown,  what's  that  for  ?"  roared  he, 
stamping  with  pain. 

"  Never  mind  what  I  mean,"  said  Tom,  stepping  on 
to  the  floor,  every  drop  of  blood  in  his  body  tingling ; 
"  if  any  fellow  wants  the  other  boot,  he  knows  how  to 
get  it." 

What  would  have  been  the  result  is  doubtful,  for 
at  this  moment  the  sixth-form  boy  came  in,  and  not 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED.  271 

another  word  could  be  said.  Tom  and  the  rest  rushed 
into  bed  and  finished  their  unrobing  there,  and  the  old 
verger,  as  punctual  as  the  clock,  had  put  out  the  candle 
in  another  minute,  and  toddled  on  to  the  next  room, 
shutting  their  door  with  his  usual  "  Good  night, 
genl'm'n." 

There  were  many  boys  in  the  room  by  whom  that 
little  scene  was  taken  to  heart  before  they  slept.  But 
sleep  seemed  to  have  deserted  the  pillow  of  poor  Tom. 
For  some  time  his  excitement,  and  the  flood  of  memories 
which  chased  one  another  through  his  brain,  kept  him 
from  thinking  or  resolving.  His  head  throbbed,  his 
heart  leapt,  and  he  could  hardly  keep  himself  from 
springing  out  of  bed  and  rushing  about  the  room. 
Then  the  thought  of  his  own  mother  came  across  him, 
and  the  promise  he  had  made  at  her  knee,  years  ago, 
never  to  forget  to  kneel  by  his  bedside,  and  give  him- 
self up  to  his  Father,  before  he  laid  his  head  on  the 
pillow,  from  which  it  might  never  rise ;  and  he  lay 
down  gently  and  cried  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 
He  was  only  fourteen  years  old. 

It  was  no  light  act  of  courage  in  those  days,  my 
dear  boys,  for  a  little  fellow  to  say  his  prayers  publicly, 
even  at  Rugby.  A  few  years  later,  when  Arnold's 
manly  piety  had  begun  to  leaven  the  School  the  tables 
turned ;  before  he  died,  in  the  School-house  at  least, 
and  I  believe  in  the  other  houses,  the  rule  was  the 
other  way.  But  poor  Tom  had  come  to  school  in  other 
times.  The  first  few  nights  after  he  came  he  did  not 


272  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

kneel  down  because  of  the  noise,  but  sat  up  in  bed  till 
the  candle  was  out,  and  then  stole  out  and  said  his 
prayers  in  fear,  lest  some  one  should  find  him  out.  So 
did  many  another  poor  little  fellow.  Then  he  began  to 
think  that  he  might  just  as  well  say  his  prayers  in  bed, 
and  then  that  it  didn't  matter  whether  he  was  kneeling, 
or  sitting,  or  lying  down.  And  so  it  had  come  to  pass 
with  Tom  as  with  all  who  will  not  confess  their  Lord 
before  men  :  and  for  the  last  year  he  had  probably  not 
said  his  prayers  in  earnest  a  dozen  times. 

Poor  Tom  !  the  first  and  bitterest  feeling  which  was 
like  to  break  his  heart  was  the  sense  of  his  own 
cowardice.  The  vice  of  all  others  which  he  loathed 
was  brought  in  and  burned  in  on  his  own  soul.  He 
had  lied  to  his  mother,  to  his  conscience,  to  his  God. 
How  could  he  bear  it  ?  And  then  the  poor  little  weak 
boy,  whom  he  had  pitied  and  almost  scorned  for  his 
weakness,  had  done  that  which  he,  braggart  as  he  was, 
dared  not  do.  The  first  dawn  of  comfort  came  to  him 
in  swearing  to  himself  that  he  wrould  stand  by  that 
boy  through  thick  and  thin,  and  cheer  him,  and  help 
him,  and  bear  his  burdens,  for  the  good  deed  done 
that  night.  Then  he  resolved  to  write  home  next  day 
and  tell  his  mother  all,  and  Avhat  a  coward  her  son  had 
been.  And  then  peace  came  to  him  as  he  resolved, 
lastly,  to  bear  his  testimony  next  morning.  The 
morning  would  be  harder  than  the  night  to  begin 
with,  but  he  felt  that  he  could  not  afford  to  let  one 
chance  slip.  Several  times  he  faltered,  for  the  devil 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED.  273 

showed  him,  first,  all  his  old  friends  calling  him 
'•Saint"  and  "Square-toes,"  and  a  dozen  hard 
names,  and  whispered  to  him  that  his  motives  would 
be  misunderstood,  and  he  would  only  be  left  alone 
with  the  new  boy ;  Avhereas  it  was  his  duty  to  keep  all 
means  of  influence,  that  he  might  do  good  to  the 
largest  number.  And  then  came  the  moi'e  subtle 
temptation,  "  Shall  I  not  be  showing  myself  braver 
than  others  by  doing  this?  Have  I  any  right  to 
begin  it  now  ?  Ought  I  not  rather  to  pray  in  my  own 
study,  letting  other  boys  know  that  I  do  so,  and  try- 
ing to  lead  them  to  it,  while  in  public  at  least  I  should 
go  on  as  I  have  done?"  However,  his  good  angel 
was  too  strong  that  night,  and  he  turned  on  his  side 
and  slept,  tired  of  trying  to  reason,  but  resolved  to 
follow  the  impulse  which  had  been  so  strong,  and  in 
which  he  had  found  peace. 

Next  morning  he  was  up  and  washed  and  dressed, 
all  but  his  jacket  and  waistcoat,  just  as  the  ten 
minutes'  bell  began  to  ring,  and  then  in  the  face  of 
the  whole  room  knelt  down  to  pray.  Not  five  words 
could  he  say — the  bell  mocked  him  ;  he  was  listening 
for  every  whisper  in  the  room — what  were  they  all 
thinking  of  him  ?  He  was  ashamed  to  go  on  kneeling, 
ashamed  to  rise  from  his  knees.  At  last,  as  it  were 
from  his  inmost  heart,  a  still  small  voice  seemed  to 
breathe  forth  the  words  of  the  publican,  "  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner !"  He  repeated  them  over 
and  over,  clinging  to  them  as  for  his  life,  and  rose 
is 


274  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

from  his  knees  comforted  and  humbled,  and  ready  to 
face  the  whole  world.  It  was  not  needed :  two  other 
boys  besides  Arthur  had  already  followed  his  example, 
and  he  went  down  to  the  great  School  with  a  glimmer- 
ing of  another  lesson  in  his  heart — the  lesson  that  he 
who  has  conquered  his  own  coward  spirit  has  conquer- 
ed the  whole  outward  world ;  and  that  other  one  which 
the  old  prophet  learnt  in  the  cave  in  Mount  Horeb, 
when  he  hid  his  face  and  the  still  small  voice  asked, 
"What  doest  thou  here,  Elijah?"  that,  however  we 
may  fancy  ourselves  alone  on  the  side  of  good,  the 
King  and  Lord  of  men  is  nowhere  without  His  wit- 
nesses ;  for  in  every  society,  however  seemingly  cor- 
rupt and  godless,  there  are  those  who  have  not  bowed 
the  knee  to  Baal. 

He  found  too  how  greatly  he  had  exaggerated  the 
effect  to  be  produced  by  his  act.  For  a  few  nights 
there  was  a  sneer  or  a  laugh  when  he  knelt  down,  but 
this  passed  off  soon,  and  one  by  one  all  the  other  boys 
but  three  or  four  followed  the  lead.  I  fear  that  this 
was  in  some  measure  owing  to  the  fact,  that  Tom  could 
probably  have  thrashed  any  boy  in  the  room  except 
the  praepostor ;  at  any  rate,  every  boy  knew  that  he 
would  try  upon  very  slight  provocation,  and  didn't 
choose  to  run  the  risk  of  a  hard  fight  because  Tom 
Brown  had  taken  a  fancy  to  say  his  prayers.  Some 
of  the  small  boys  of  Number  4  communicated  the  new 
state  of  things  to  their  chums,  and  in  several  other 
rooms  the  poor  little  fellows  tried  it  on ;  in  one 


HOW  THE  TIDE  TURNED.  275 

instance  or  so  where  the  praepostor  heard  of  it  and 
interfered  very  decidedly,  with  partial  success ;  but  in 
the  rest,  after  a  short  struggle,  the  confessors  were 
bullied  or  laughed  down,  and  the  old  state  of  things 
went  on  for  some  time  longer.  Before  either  Tom 
Brown  or  Arthur  left  the  School-house,  there  was  no 
room  in  which  it  had  not  become  the  regular  custom. 
I  trust  it  is  so  still,  and  that  the  old  heathen  state  of 
things  has  gone  out  for  ever. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  NEW  BOY. 

"And  Heaven's  rich  instincts  in  him  grew, 
As  effortless  as  woodland  nooks 
Send  violets  up  and  paint  them  blue." — Lowell. 

I  DO  not  mean  to  recount  all  the  little  troubles  and 
annoyances  which  thronged  upon  Tom  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  half-year,  in  his  new  character  of  bear- 
leader to  a  gentle  little  boy  straight  from  home.  lie 
seemed  to  himself  to  have  become  a  new  boy  again, 
without  any  of  the  long  suffering  and  meekness  indis- 
pensable for  supporting  that  character  with  moderate 
success.  From  morning  till  night  he  had  the  feeling 
of  responsibility  on  his  mind  ;  and  even  if  he  left 
Arthur  in  their  study  or  in  the  close  for  an  hour,  was 
never  at  ease  till  he  had  him  in  sight  again.  He 
waited  for  him  at  the  doors  of  the  school  after  every 
lesson  and  every  calling-over ;  watched  that  no  tricks 
were  played  him,  and  none  but  the  regulation  ques- 
tions asked;  kept  his  eye  on  his  plate  at  dinner  and 
breakfast,  to  see  that  no  unfair  depredations  were 
made  upon  his  viands  ;  in  short,  as  East  remarked, 
cackled  after  him  like  a  hen  with  one  chick. 

276 


THE   NEW   BOY.  277 

Arthur  took  a  long  time  thawing  too,  which  made  it 
all  the  harder  work  ;  was  sadly  timid  ;  scarcely  ever 
spoke  unless  Tom  spoke  to  him  first ;  and,  worst  of  all, 
would  aoree  with  him  in  everything,  the  hardest  thin*; 

O  •/  O ' 

in  the  world  for  a  Brown  to  bear.  He  got  quite  angry 
sometimes,  as  they  sat  together  of  a  night  in  their 
study,  at  this  provoking  habit  of  agreement,  and  was 
on  the  point  of  breaking  out  a  dozen  times  with  a  lec- 
ture upon  the  propriety  of  a  fellow  having  a  will  of 
his  own  and  speaking  out ;  but  managed  to  restrain 
himself  by  the  thought  that  it  might  only  frighten 
Arthur,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  lesson  he  had 
learnt  from  him  on  his  first  night  at  Number  4.  Then  he 
would  resolve  to  sit  still,  and  not  say  a  word  till  Arthur 
began  ;  but  he  was  always  beat  on  that  game,  and  had 
presently  to  begin  talking  in  despair,  fearing  lest 
Arthur  might  think  he  was  vexed  at  something  if  he 
didn't,  and  dog-tired  of  sitting  tongue-tied. 

It  was  hard  work  !  But  Tom  had  taken  it  up,  and 
meant  to  stick  to  it,  and  go  through  with  it,  so  as  to 
satisfy  himself;  in  which  resolution  he  was  much  as- 
sisted by  the  chaffing  of  East  and  his  other  old  friends, 
who  began  to  call  him  "dry-nurse,"  and  otherwise  to 
break  their  small  wit  on  him.  But  when  they  took 
other  ground,  as  they  did  every  now  and  then,  Tom 
Avas  sorely  puzzled. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Tommy,"  East  would  say,  "you'll 
spoil  young  Hopeful  with  too  much  coddling.  Why 
can't  you  let  him  go  about  by  himself  and  find  his  own 


278  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

level  ?  He'll  never  be  worth  a  button,  if  you  go  on 
keeping  him  under  your  skirts." 

"Well,  but  he  ain't  fit  to  fight  his  own  way  yet; 
I'm  trying  to  get  him  to  it  every  day — but  he's  very 
odd.  Poor  little  beggar  !  I  can't  make  him  out  a  bit. 
He  ain't  a  bit  like  anything  I've  ever  seen  or  heard  of 
— he  seems  all  over  nerves ;  anything  you  say  seems 
to  hurt  him  like  a  cut  or  a  blow." 

"  That  sort  of  boy's  no  use  here,"  said  East,  "  he'll 
only  spoil.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,  Tommy. 
Go  and  get  a  nice  large  band-box  made,  and  put  him 
in  Avith  plenty  of  cotton  wool,  and  a  pap-bottle, 
labelled  'With  care — this  side  up,'  and  send  him  back 
to  mamma." 

"I  think  I  shall  make  a  hand  of  him  though,"  said 
Tom,  smiling,  "say  what  you  will.  There's  something 
about  him,  every  now  and  then,  Avhich  shows  me  he's 
got  pluck  somewhere  in  him.  That's  the  only  thing 
after  all  that'll  wash,  ain't  it,  old  Scud  ?  But  how  to 
get  at  it  and  bring  it  out  ?" 

Tom  took  one  hand  out  of  his  breeches-pocket  and 
stuck  it  in  his  back  hair  for  a  scratch,  giving  his  hat 
a  tilt  over  his  nose,  his  one  method  of  invoking  wis- 
dom. He  stared  at  the  ground  with  a  ludicrously  puz- 
zled look,  and  presently  looked  up  and  met  East's 
eyes.  That  young  gentleman  slapped  him  on  the  back, 
and  then  put  his  arm  round  his  shoulder,  as  they 
strolled  through  the  quadrangle  together.  "  Tom," 
said  he,  "  blest  if  you  ain't  the  best  old  fellow  ever 


THE  FIVES'  COURT,  RUGBY 


THE  NEW   BOY.  279 

was — I  do  like  to  see  you  go  into  a  thing.  Hang  it,  I 
wish  I  could  take  things  as  you  do — but  I  never  can 
get  higher  than  a  joke.  Everything's  a  joke.  If  I 
was  going  to  be  flogged  next  minute,  I  should  be  in  a 
blue  funk,  but  I  couldn't  help  laughing  at  it  for  the 
life  of  me." 

'•  Brown  and  East,  you  go  and  fag  for  Jones  on  the 
great  fives'  court." 

"  Hullo,  though,  that's  past  a  joke,"  broke  out 
East,  springing  at  the  young  gentleman  who  addressed 
them,  and  catching  him  by  the  collar.  "  Here, 
Tommy,  catch  hold  of  him  t'other  side  before  he  can 
holla." 

The  youth  was  seized,  and  dragged  struggling  out 
of  the  quadrangle  into  the  School-house  hall.  He 
was  one  of  the  miserable  little  pretty  white-handed 
curly-headed  boys,  petted  and  pampered  by  some  of 
the  big  fellows,  who  wrote  their  verses  for  them,  taught 
them  to  drink  and  use  bad  language,  and  did  all  they 
could  to  spoil  them  for  everything  *  in  this  world  and 
the  next.  One  of  the  avocations  in  which  these  young 
gentlemen  took  particular  delight,  was  in  going  about 
and  getting  fags  for  their  protectors,  when  those  heroes 
were  playing  any  game.  They  carried  about  pencil 

*  A  kind  and  wise  critic,  an  old  Rngboean,  notes  here  in  the 
manrin  :  The  ''  small  friend  system  was  not  so  utterly  bad  from 
1S41-1S47.''  Before  that,  too,  there  were  many  noble  friendships 
between  big  and  little  boys,  but  I  can't  strike  out  the  passage : 
many  boys  will  know  why  it  is  left  in. 


280  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  paper  with  them,  putting  down  the  names  of  all 
the  boys  they  sent,  always  sending  five  times  as  many 
as  were  wanted,  and  getting  all  those  thrashed  who 
didn't  go.  The  present  youth  belonged  to  a  house 
which  was  very  jealous  of  the  School-house,  and  always 
picked  out  School-house  fags  when  he  could  find  them. 
However,  this  time  he'd  got  the  wrong  sow  by  the  ear. 
His  captors  slammed  the  great  door  of  the  hall,  and 
East  put  his  back  against  it,  while  Tom  gave  the  pris- 
oner a  shake-up,  took  away  his  list,  and  stood  him  up 
on  the  floor,  while  he  proceeded  leisurely  to  examine 
that  document. 

"Let  me  out,  let  me  go!"  screamed  the  boy  in  a 
furious  passion.  "I'll  go  and  tell  Jones  this  minute, 

and  he'll  give  you  both  the thrashing  you  ever 

had." 

"  Pretty  little  dear,"  said  East,  patting  the  top  of 
his  hat ;  "  hark  how  he  swears,  Tom.  Nicely  brought- 
up  young  man,  ain't  he,  I  don't  think." 

"Let  me  alone you,"  roared  the  boy,  foaming 

with  rage,  and  kicking  at  East,  who  quietly  tripped 
him  up,  and  deposited  him  on  the  floor  in  a  place  of 
safety. 

"  Gently,  young  fellow,"  said  he,  "  'taint  improving 
for  little  whippersnappers  like  you  to  be  indulging  in 
blasphemy ;  so  you  stop  that,  or  you'll  get  something 
you  won't  like." 

"  I'll  have  you  both  licked  when  I  get  out,  that  I 
will,"  rejoined  the  boy,  beginning  to  snivel. 


THE  NEW  BOY.  281 

"  Two  can  play  at  that  game,  mind  you,"  said  Tom, 
who  had  finished  his  examination  of  the  list.  "  Now 
you  just  listen  here.  We've  just  come  across  the 
fives'  court,  and  Jones  has  four  fags  there  already,  two 
more  than  he  wants.  If  he'd  wanted  us  to  change, 
he'd  have  stopped  us  himself.  And  here,  you  little 
blackguard,  you've  got  seven  names  down  on  your  list 
besides  ours,  and  five  of  them  School-house."  Tom 
walked  up  to  him  and  jerked  him  on  his  legs ;  he  was 
by  this  time  whining  like  a  whipped  puppy. 

••  Xow  just  listen  to  me.  We  ain't  going  to  fag  for 
Jones.  If  you  tell  him  you  ve  sent  us,  we'll  each 
of  us  give  you  such  a  thrashing  as  you'll  remem- 
ber." And  Tom  tore  up  the  list  and  threw  the 
pieces  into  the  fire. 

"And  mind  you  too,"  said  East,  "don't  let  me 
catch  you  again  sneaking  about  the  School-house,  and 
picking  up  our  fags.  You  haven't  got  the  sort  of 
hide  to  take  a  sound  licking  kindly;"  and  he  opened 
the  door  and  sent  the  young  gentleman  flying  into 
the  quadrangle,  with  a  parting  kick. 

"Nice  boy.  Tommy,"  said  East,  shoving  his  hands 
in  his  pockets  and  strolling  to  the  fire. 

••  Worst  sort  we  breed,"  responded  Tom,  following 
his  example.  "  Thank  goodness,  no  big  fellow  ever 
took  to  petting  me." 

••  You'd  never  have  been  like  that,"  said  East. 
''  I  should  like  to  have  put  him  in  a  museum  : — 
Christian  young  gentleman,  nineteenth  century,  high- 


282  TOM   BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

ly  educated.  Stir  him  up  with  a  long  pole,  Jack,  and 
hear  him  swear  like  a  drunken  sailor  ! — He'd  make  a 
respectable  public  open  its  eyes,  I  think." 

"Think  he'll  tell  Jones?"  said  Tom. 

"No,"  said  East.     "  Don't  care  if  he  does." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Tom.  And  they  went  back  to  talk 
about  Arthur. 

The  young  gentleman  had  brains  enough  not  to  tell 
Jones,  reasoning  that  East  and  Brown,  who  were  noted 
as  some  of  the  toughest  fags  in  the  school,  wouldn't 
care  three  straws  for  any  licking  Jones  might  give 
them,  and  would  be  likely  to  keep  their  words  as  to 
passing  it  on  with  interest. 

After  the  above  conversation,  East  came  a  good 
deal  to  their  study,  and  took  notice  of  Arthur ;  and 
soon  allowed  to  Tom  that  he  was  a  thorough  little 
gentleman,  and  would  get  over  his  shyness  all  in 
good  time ;  which  much  comforted  our  hero.  He 
felt  every  day,  too,  the  value  of  having  an  object 
in  his  life,  something  that  drew  him  out  of  himself; 
and,  it  being  the  dull  time  of  the  year,  and  no  games 
going  about  which  he  much  cared,  was  happier  than 
he  had  ever  yet  been  at  school,  which  was  saying  a 
great  deal. 

The  time  which  Tom  allowed  himself  away  from 
his  charge,  was  from  locking-up  till  supper-time. 
During  this  hour  or  hoar-and-half  he  used  to  take  his 
fling,  going  round  to  the  studies  of  all  his  acquaint- 
ance, sparring  or  gossiping  in  the  hall,  now  jumping 


THE   NEW   BOY.  283 

the  old  iron-bound  tables,  or  carving  a  bit  of  his 
name  on  them,  then  joining  in  some  chorus  of  merry 
voices ;  in  fact,  blowing  off  his  steam,  as  we  should 
now  call  it. 

This  process  was  so  congenial  to  his  temper,  and 
Arthur  showed  himself  so  pleased  at  the  arrangement, 
that  it  was  several  weeks  before  Tom  was  ever  in  their 
study  before  supper.  One  evening,  however,  he  rushed 
in  to  look  for  an  old  chisel,  or  some  corks,  or  other 
articles  essential  to  his  pursuit  for  the  time  being, 
and  while  rummaging  about  in  the  cupboards,  looked 
up  for  a  moment,  and  was  caught  at  once  by  the 
figure  of  poor  little  Arthur.  The  boy  was  sitting 
with  his  elbows  on  the  table,  and  his  head  leaning 
on  his  hands,  and  before  him  an  open  book,  on 
which  his  tears  were  falling  fast.  Tom  shut  the 
door  at  once,  and  sat  down  on  the  sofa  by  Arthur, 
putting  his  arm  around  his  neck. 

"  Why,  young  un  !  what's  the  matter  ?"  said  he, 
kindly;  "you  ain't  unhappy,  are  you?" 

"  Oh  no,  Brown,"  said  the  little  boy,  looking  up 
with  the  great  tears  in  his  eyes,  "you  are  so  kind 
to  me,  I'm  very  happy." 

"  Why  don't  you  call  me  Tom  ?  lots  of  boys  do 
that  I  don't  like  half  so  much  as  you.  What  are 
you  reading,  then  ?  Hang  it,  you  must  come  about 
with  me,  and  not  mope  yourself,"  and  Tom  cast  down 
his  eyes  on  the  book,  and  saw  it  was  the  Bible.  He 
was  silent  for  a  minute,  and  thought  to  himself, 


284  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Lesson  Number  2,  Tom  Brown;" — and  then  said 
gently— 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  this,  Arthur,  and  ashamed 
that  I  don't  read  the  Bible  more  myself.  Do  you 
read  it  every  night  before  supper  while  I'm  out?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you'd  wait  till  afterwards,  and  then 
we'd  read  together.  But,  Arthur,  why  does  it  make 
you  cry  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that  I'm  unhappy.  But  at  home, 
while  my  father  was  alive,  we  always  read  the  les- 
sons after  tea ;  and  I  love  to  read  them  over  now, 
and  try  to  remember  what  he  said  about  them.  I 
can't  remember  all,  and  I  think  I  scarcely  under- 
stand a  great  deal  of  what  I  do  remember.  But  it 
all  comes  back  to  me  so  fresh,  that  I  can't  help  cry- 
ing sometimes  to  think  I  shall  never  read  them  again 
with  him." 

Arthur  had  never  spoken  of  his  home  before,  and 
Tom  hadn't  encouraged  him  to  do  so,  as  his  blunder- 
ing school-boy  reasoning  made  him  think  that  Arthur 
would  be  softened  and  less  manly  for  thinking  of  borne. 
But  now  he  was  fairly  interested,  and  forgot  all  about 
chisels  and  bottled  beer  ;  while  with  very  little  encour- 
agement Arthur  launched  into  his  home  history,  and 
the  prayer-bell  put  them  both  out  sadly  when  it  rang 
to  call  them  to  the  hall. 

From  this  time  Arthur  constantly  spoke  of  his 
home,  and,  above  all,  of  his  father,  who  had  been 


THE  NEW  BOY.  285 

dead  about  a  year,  and  whose  memory  Tom  soon  got 
to  love  and  reverence  almost  as  much  as  his  own 
son  did. 

Arthur's  father  had  been  the  clergyman  of  a  parish 
in  the  Midland  Counties,  which  had  risen  into  a  large 
town  during  the  war,  and  upon  which  the  hard  years 
which  followed  had  fallen  with  a  fearful  weight.  The 
trade  had  been  half  ruined :  and  then  came  the  old 
sad  story,  of  masters  reducing  their  establishments, 
men  turned  off  and  wandering  about,  hungry  and 
wan  in  body  and  fierce  in  soul,  from  the  thought  of 
wives  and  children  starving  at  home,  and  the  last 
sticks  of  furniture  going  to  the  pawn-shop.  Chil- 
dren taken  from  school,  and  lounging  about  the  dirty 
streets  and  courts,  too  listless  almost  to  play,  and 
squalid  in  rags  and  misery.  And  then  the  fearful 
struggle  between  the  employers  and  men  ;  lowerings 
of  wages,  strikes,  and  the  long  course  of  oft-repeated 
crime,  ending  every  now  and  then  with  a  riot,  a  fire, 
and  the  county  yeomanry.  There  is  no  need  here  to 
dwell  upon  such  tales ;  the  Englishman  into  whose 
soul  they  have  not  sunk  deep  is  not  worthy  the 
name;  you  English  boys  for  whom  this  book  is  meant 
(God  bless  your  bright  faces  and  kind  hearts  !)  will 
learn  it  all  soon  enough. 

Into  such  a  parish  and  state  of  society,  Arthur's 
father  had  been  thrown  at  the  age  of  twenty-five,  a 
young  married  parson,  full  of  faith,  hope,  and  love. 
He  had  battled  with  it  like  a  man,  and  had  lots  of  fine 


286  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Utopian  ideas  about  the  perfectibility  of  mankind,  glo- 
rious humanity  and  such-like,  knocked  out  of  his 
head ;  and  a  real  wholesome  Christian  love  for  the 
poor  struggling,  sinning  men,  of  whom  he  felt  himself 
one,  and  with  and  for  whom  he  spent  fortune,  and 
strength,  and  life,  driven  into  his  heart.  He  had 
battled  like  a  man,  and  gotten  a  man's  reward.  No 
silver  teapots  or  salvers,  with  flowery  inscriptions,  set- 
ting forth  his  virtues  and  the  appreciation  of  a  genteel 
parish  ;  no  fat  living  or  stall,  for  which  he  never 
looked,  and  didn't  care ;  no  sighs  and  praises  of  com- 
fortable dowagers  and  well  got-up  young  women,  who 
worked  him  slippers,  sugared  his  tea,  and  adored  him 
as  "a devoted  man;"  but  a  manly  respect,  wrung  from 
the  unwilling  souls  of  men  who  fancied  his  order  their 
natural  enemies ;  the  fear  and  hatred  of  every  one 
who  was  false  or  unjust  in  the  district,  were  he  master 
or  man ;  and  the  blessed  sight  of  women  and  chil- 
dren daily  becoming  more  human  and  more  homely, 
a  comfort  to  themselves  and  to  their  husbands  and 
fathers. 

These  things  of  course  took  time,  and  had  to  be 
fought  for  Avith  toil  and  sweat  of  brain  and  heart,  and 
with  the  life-blood  poured  out.  All  that,  Arthur  had 
laid  his  account  to  give,  and  took  as  a  matter  of 
course ;  neither  pitying  himself,  or  looking  on  himself  as 
a  martyr,  when  he  felt  the  wear  and  tear  making  him 
feel  old  before  his  time,  and  the  stifling  air  of  fever 
dens  telling  on  his  health.  His  wife  seconded  him  in 


THE  NEW  BOY.  287 

everything.  She  had  been  rather  fond  of  society,  and 
much  admired  and  run  after  before  her  marriage  ;  and 

O       * 

the  London  world,  to  which  she  had  belonged,  pitied 
poor  Fanny  Evelyn  when  she  married  the  young 
clergvman  and  went  to  settle  in  that  smokv  hole 

Cv  us 

Turley,  a  very  nest  of  Chartism  and  Atheism,  in  a 
part  of  the  county  which  all  the  decent  families  had 
had  to  leave  for  years.  However,  somehow  or  other 
she  didn't  seem  to  care.  If  her  husband's  living  had 
been  amongst  green  fields  and  near  pleasant  neighbors, 
she  would  have  liked  it  better,  that  she  never  pre- 
tended to  deny.  But  there  they  were:  the  air  wasn't 
bad  after  all ;  the  people  were  very  good  sort  of  people, 
civil  to  you  if  you  were  civil  to  them,  after  the  first 
brush ;  and  they  didn't  expect  to  work  miracles,  and 
convert  them  all  off-hand  into  model  Christians.  So 
he  and  she  went  quietly  among  the  folk,  talking  to 
and  treating  them  just  as  they  would  have  done  people 
of  their  own  rank.  They  didn't  feel  that  they  were 
doing  anything  out  of  the  common  way,  and  so  were 
perfectly  natural,  and  had  none  of  that  condescension  or 
consciousness  of  manner  which  so  outrages  the  indepen- 
dent poor.  And  thus  they  gradually  won  respect  and 
confidence:  and  after  sixteen  years  he  was  looked  up  to 
by  the  whole  neighborhood  as  the  just  man.  the  man  to 
whom  masters  and  men  could  go  in  their  strikes,  and  all 
in  their  quarrels  and  difficulties,  and  by  whom  the  right 
and  true  word  would  be  said  without  fear  or  favor. 
And  the  women  had  come  round  to  take  her  advice, 


288  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS. 

and  go  to  her  as  a  friend  in  all  their  troubles ;  while 
the  children  all  worshipped  the  very  ground  she  trod  on. 

They  had  three  children,  two  daughters  and  a  son, 
little  Arthur,  who  came  between  his  sisters.  He  had 
been  a  very  delicate  boy  from  his  childhood ;  they 
thought  he  had  a  tendency  to  consumption,  and  so  he 
had  been  kept  at  home  and  taught  by  his  father,  who 
had  made  a  companion  of  him,  and  from  whom  he  had 
gained  good  scholarship,  and  a  knowledge  of  and  inte- 
rest in  many  subjects  which  boys  in  general  never 
come  across  till  they  are  many  years  older. 

Just  as  he  reached  his  thirteenth  year,  and  his 
father  had  settled  that  he  was  strong  enough  to  go  to 
school,  and,  after  much  debating  with  himself,  had 
resolved  to  send  him  there,  a  desperate  typhus-fever 
broke  out  in  the  town ;  most  of  the  other  clergy,  and 
almost  all  the  doctors,  ran  away  ;  the  work  fell  with 
tenfold  weight  on  those  who  stood  to  their  work. 
Arthur  and  his  wife  both  caught  the  fever,  of  which 
he  died  in  a  few  days,  and  she  recovered,  having  been 
able  to  nurse  him  to  the  end,  and  store  up  his  last 
words.  He  was  sensible  to  the  last,  and  calm  and 
happy,  leaving  his  wife  and  children  with  fearless 
trust  for  a  few  years  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord  and 
Friend  who  had  lived  and  died  for  him,  and  for  whom 
he,  to  the  best  of  his  power,  had  lived  and  died.  His 
widow's  mourning  was  deep  and  gentle ;  she  was  more 
affected  by  the  request  of  the  Committee  of  a  Free- 
thinking  Club,  established  in  the  town  by  some  of  the 


THE  NEW  BOY.  289 

factory  hands,  (which  he  had  striven  against  with 
might  and  main,  and  nearly  suppressed,)  that  some  of 
their  number  might  be  allowed  to  help  bear  the  coffin, 
than  by  anything  else.  Two  of  them  were  chosen,  who 
with  six  other  laboring  men,  his  own  fellow- work  men 
and  friends,  bore  him  to  his  grave — a  man  who  had 
fought  the  Lord's  fight  even  unto  the  death.  The 
shops  were  closed  and  the  factories  shut  that  day  in 
the  parish,  yet  no  master  stopped  the  day's  wages ; 
but  for  many  a  year  afterwards  the  townsfolk  felt  the 
want  of  that  brave,  hopeful,  loving  parson,  and  his 
wife,  who  had  lived  to  teach  them  mutual  forbearance 
and  helpfulness,  and  had  almost  at  last  given  them  a 
glimpse  of  what  this  old  world  would  be  if  people 
would  live  for  God  and  each  other,  instead  of  for 
themselves. 

What  has  all  this  to  do  with  our  story  ?  Well,  my 
dear  boys,  let  a  fellow  go  on  his  own  way,  or  you  won't 
get  anything  out  of  him  worth  having.  I  must  show 
you  what  sort  of  a  man  it  was  who  had  begotten  and 
trained  little  Arthur,  or  else  you  won't  believe  in  him, 
which  I  am  resolved  you  shall  do ;  and  you  won't  see 
how  he,  the  timid  weak  boy,  had  points  in  him  from 
which  the  bravest  arid  strongest  recoiled,  and  made  his 
presence  and  example  felt  from  the  first  on  all  sides, 
unconsciously  to  himself,  and  without  the  least  attempt 
at  proselytizing.  The  spirit  of  his  father  was  in  him, 
and  the  Friend  to  whom  his  father  had  left  him  did 
not  neglect  the  trust. 

19 


290  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

After  supper  that  night,  and  almost  nightly  for 
years  afterwards,  Tom  and  Arthur,  and  by  degrees 
East  occasionally,  and  sometimes  one,  sometimes 
another,  of  their  friends,  read  a  chapter  of  the  Bible 
together,  and  talked  it  over  afterwards.  Tom  was  at 
first  utterly  astonished,  and  almost  shocked,  at  the  sort 
of  way  in  which  Arthur  read  the  book,  and  talked 
about  the  men  and  women  whose  lives  were  there  told. 
The  first  night  they  happened  to  fall  on  the  chap- 
ters about  the  famine  in  Egypt,  and  Arthur  began 
talking  about  Joseph  as  if  he  were  a  living  statesman  ; 
just  as  he  might  have  talked  about  Lord  Grey  and  the 
Reform  Bill ;  only  that  they  were  much  more  living  re- 
alities to  him.  The  book  was  to  him,  Tom  saw,  the  most 
vivid  and  delightful  history  of  real  people,  who  might 
do  right  or  wrong,  just  like  any  one  who  was  walking 
about  in  Rugby — the  Doctor,  or  the  masters,  or  the 
sixth-form  boys.  But  the  astonishment  soon  passed 
off,  the  scales  seemed  to  drop  from  his  eyes,  and  the 
book  became  at  once  and  for  ever  to  him  the  great 
human  and  divine  book,  and  the  men  and  women, 
whom  he  had  looked  upon  as  something  quite  dif- 
ferent from  himself,  became  his  friends  and  coun- 
sellors. 

For  our  purposes,  however,  the  history  of  one 
night's  reading  will  be  sufficient,  which  must  be  told 
here,  now  we  are  on  the  subject,  though  it  didn't  hap- 
pen till  a  year  afterwards,  and  long  after  the  events 
recorded  in  the  next  chapter  of  our  story. 


THE  NEW  BOY.  291 

Arthur,  Tom,  and  East  were  together  one  night,  and 
read  the  story  of  Naaman  coming  to  Elisha  to  be  cured 
of  his  leprosy.  When  the  chapter  was  finished,  Tom 
shut  his  Bible  with  a  slap. 

"  I  can't  stand  that  fellow  Naaman,"  said  he,  "  after 
what  he'd  seen  and  felt,  going  back  and  bowing  him- 
self down  in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  because  his  effem- 
inate scoundrel  of  a  master  did  it.  I  wonder  Elisha 
took  the  trouble  to  heal  him.  How  he  must  have 
despised  him." 

"  Yes,  there  you  go  off  as  usual,  with  a  shell  on  your 
head,"  struck  in  East,  who  always  took  the  opposite 
side  to  Tom ;  half  from  love  of  argument,  half  from 
conviction.  "  How  do  you  know  he  didn't  think  better 
of  it?  how  do  you  know  his  master  was  a  scoundrel? 
His  letter  didn't  look  like  it,  and  the  book  don't 
say  so." 

"I  don't  care,"  rejoined  Tom;  "why  did  Naaman 
talk  about  bowing  down,  then,  if  he  didn't  mean  to  do 
it?  He  wasn't  likely  to  get  more  in  earnest  when  he 
got  back  to  court,  and  away  from  the  prophet." 

"Well  but,  Tom,"  said  Arthur,  "look  what  Elisha 
says  to  him,  '  Go  in  peace.'  He  wouldn't  have  said 
that  if  Naaman  had  been  in  the  wrong." 

"  I  don't  see  that  that  means  more  than  saying, 
'You're  not  the  man  I  took  you  for.'' 

"No,  no,  that  won't  do  at  all,"  said  East;  "read 
the  words  fairly,  and  take  men  as  you  find  them.  I 
like  Naaman,  and  think  he  was  a  very  fine  fellow." 


292  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Tom,  positively. 

"Well,  I  think  East  is  right,"  said  Arthur;  "I 
can't  see  but  what  it's  right  to  do  the  best  you  can, 
though  it  mayn't  be  the  best  absolutely.  Every  man 
isn't  born  to  be  a  martyr." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  East ;  "  but  he's  on  one 
of  his  pet  hobbies.  How  often  have  I  told  you,  Tom, 
that  you  must  drive  a  nail  where  it'll  go." 

"And  how  often  have  I  told  you,"  rejoined  Tom, 
"  that  it'll  always  go  where  you  want,  if  you  only  stick 
to  it  and  hit  hard  enough.  I  hate  half  measures  and 
compromises." 

"  Yes,  he's  a  whole-hog  man,  is  Tom.  Must  have 
the  whole  animal,  hair  and  teeth,  claws  and  tail," 
laughed  East.  "  Sooner  have  no  bread  any  day  than 
half  a  loaf." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Arthur,  "  it's  rather  puzzling  ; 
but  ain't  most  right  things  got  by  proper  compromises, 
I  mean  where  the  principle  isn't  given  up?" 

"  That's  just  the  point,"  said  Tom  ;  "  I  don't  object 
to  a  compromise  where  you  don't  give  up  your 
principle." 

"Not  you,"  said  East,  laughingly.  "I  know  him 
of  old,  Arthur,  and  you'll  find  him  out  some  day. 
There  isn't  such  a  reasonable  fellow  in  the  world,  to 
hear  him  talk.  He  never  wants  anything  but  what's 
right  and  fair ;  only  when  you  come  to  settle  what's 
right  and  fair,  it's  everything  that  he  wants,  and 


THE  NEW  BOY.  293 

nothing  that  you  want.  And  that's  his  idea  of  com- 
promise. Give  me  the  Brown  compromise  when  I'm 
on  his  side." 

"Now,  Harry,"  said  Tom,  "no  more  chaff — I'm 
serious.  Look  here — this  is  what  makes  my  blood 
tingle  ;"  and  he  turned  over  the  pages  of  his  Bible  and 
read,  "  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  answered 
and  said  to  the  king,  '  0  Nebuchadnezzar,  we  are  not 
careful  to  answer  thee  in  this  matter.  If  it  be  so,  our 
God  whom  we  serve  is  able  to  deliver  us  from  the 
burning  fiery  furnace,  and  He  will  deliver  us  out  of 
thine  hand,  0  king.  But  if  not,  be  it  known  unto 
thee,  0  king,  that  we  will  not  serve  thy  gods,  nor  wor- 
ship the  golden  image  which  thou  hast  set  up.'  "  He 
read  the  last  verse  twice,  emphasizing  the  nots,  and 
dwelling  on  them  as  if  they  gave  him  actual  pleasure, 
and  were  hard  to  part  with. 

They  were  silent  a  minute,  and  then  Arthur  said, 
"  Yes,  that's  a  glorious  story,  but  it  don't  prove  your 
point,  Tom,  I  think.  There  are  times  when  there  is 
only  one  way,  and  that  the  highest,  and  then  the  men 
are  found  to  stand  in  the  breach." 

"  There's  always  a  highest  way,  and  it's  always  the 
right  one,"  said  Tom.  "How  many  times  has  the 
Doctor  told  us  that  in  his  sermons  in  the  last  year,  I 
should  like  to  know?" 

"  Well,  you  ain't  going  to  convince  us,  is  he 
Arthur?  No  Brown  compromise  to-night,"  said  East, 


294  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

looking  at  his  watch.      "  But  it's   past  eight,  and  we 
must  go  to  first  lesson.     What  a  bore!" 
,     So  they  took  down  their  books  and  fell  to  work ; 
but  Arthur  didn't  forget,  and  thought  long  and  often 
over  the  conversation. 


CHAPTER   III. 
ARTHUR  MAKES  A  FRIEND. 

"Let  Nature  be  your  teacher: 
Sweet  is  the  lore  which  Nature  brings; 
Our  meddling  intellect 
Mis-shapes  the  beauteous  forms  of  things. 
We  murder  to  dissect — 
Enough  of  Science  and  of  Art ; 
Close  up  those  barren  leaves; 
Come  forth,  and  bring  with  you  a  heart 
That  watches  and  receives."— WORDSWORTH. 

ABOUT  six  weeks  after  the  beginning  of  the  half, 
as  Tom  and  Arthur  were  sitting  one  night  before  sup- 
per beginning  their  verses,  Arthur  suddenly  stopped, 
and  looked  up,  and  said,  "  Tom,  do  you  know  any- 
thing of  Martin  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  taking  his  hand  out  of  his  back 
hair,  and  delighted  to  throw  his  Gradus  ad  Parnassum 
on  to  the  sofa ;  "  I  know  him  pretty  well.  He's  a 
very  good  fellow,  but  as  mad  as  a  hatter.  He's  called 
Madman,  you  know.  And  never  was  such  a  fellow 
for  getting  all  sorts  of  rum  things  about  him.  He 
tamed  two  snakes  last  half,  and  used  to  carry  them 
about  in  his  pocket,  and  I'll  be  bound  he's  got  some 
hedgehogs  and  rats  in  his  cupboard  now,  and  no  one 
knows  what  besides." 

295 


296  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  know  him,"  said 
Arthur;  "he  was  next  to  me  in  the  form  to-day,  and 
he'd  lost  his  book  and  looked  over  mine,  and  he 
seemed  so  kind  and  gentle,  that  I  liked  him  very 
much." 

"  Ah,  poor  old  Madman,  he's  always  losing  his 
books,"  said  Tom,  "and  getting  called  up  and  floored 
because  he  hasn't  got  them." 

"  I  like  him  all  the  better,"  said  Arthur. 

"Well,  he's  great  fun,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Tom, 
throwing  himself  back  on  the  sofa,  and  chuckling  at 
the  remembrance.  "  We  had  such  a  game  with  him 
one  day  last  half.  He  had  been  kicking  up  horrid 
stinks  for  some  time  in  his  study,  till  I  suppose  some 
fellow  told  Mary,  and  she  told  the  Doctor.  Anyhow, 
one  day  a  little  before  dinner,  when  he  came  down 
from  the  library,  the  Doctor,  instead  of  going  home, 
came  striding  into  the  Hall.  East  and  I  and  five  or 
six  other  fellows  were  at  the  fire,  and  preciously  we 
stared,  for  he  don't  come  in  like  that  once  a-year, 
unless  it  is  a  wet  day  and  there's  a  fight  in  the  Hall. 
'East,'  says  he,  'just  come  and  show  me  Martin's 
study.'  '  Oh,  here's  a  game,'  whispered  the  rest  of 
us,  and  we  all  cut  up-stairs  after  the  Doctor,  East 
leading.  As  we  got  into  the  New  Row,  which 
was  hardly  wide  enough  to  hold  the  Doctor  and 
his  gown,  click,  click,  click,  we  heard  in  the  old 
Madman's  den.  Then  that  stopped  all  of  a  sudden, 
and  the  bolts  went  to  like  fun :  the  Madman  knew 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A  FRIEND.  297 

East's  step  and  thought  there  was  going  to  be  a 
siege. 

" '  It's  the  Doctor,  Martin.  He's  here  and  wants 
to  see  you,'  sings  out  East. 

"  Then  the  bolts  went  back  slowly,  and  the  door 
opened,  and  there  was  the  old  Madman  standing, 
looking  precious  scared ;  his  jacket  off,  his  shirt- 
sleeves up  to  his  elbows,  and  his  long  skinny  arms  all 
covered  with  anchors  and  arrows  and  letters,  tattooed 
in  with  gun-powder  like  a  sailor-boy's  and  a  stink  fit 
to  knock  you  down  coming  out.  'Twas  all  the  Doctor 
could  do  to  stand  his  ground,  and  East  and  I,  who 
were  looking  in  under  his  arms,  held  our  noses  tight. 
The  old  magpie  was  standing  on  the  window-sill,  all 
his  feathers  drooping,  and  looking  disgusted  and  half- 
poisoned. 

" '  What  can  you  be  about,  Martin  ?'  says  the 
Doctor ;  '  you  really  mustn't  go  on  in  this  way — 
you're  a  nuisance  to  the  whole  passage.' 

"  '  Please,  Sir,  I  was  only  mixing  up  this  powder, 
there  isn't  any  harm  in  it;'  and  the  Madman  seized 
nervously  on  his  pestle  and  mortar,  to  show  the 
t  Doctor  the  harmlessness  of  his  pursuits,  and  went  off 
pounding ;  click,  click,  click  ;  he  hadn't  given  six 
clicks  before,  puff !  up  went  the  whole  into  a  great 
blaze,  away  went  the  pestle  and  mortar  across  the 
study,  and  back  we  tumbled  into  the  passage.  The 
magpie  fluttered  down  into  the  court,  swearing,  and 
the  Madman  danced  out,  howling,  with  his  fingers  in 


298  TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

his  mouth.  The  Doctor  caught  hold  of  him,  and 
called  to  us  to  fetch  some  water.  '  There,  you  silly 
fellow,'  said  he,  quite  pleased  though  to  find  he  wasn't 
much  hurt,  '  you  see  you  don't  know  the  least  what 
you're  doing  with  all  these  things ;  and  now,  mind, 
you  must  give  up  practising  chemistry  by  yourself.' 
Then  he  took  hold  of  his  arm  and  looked  at  it,  and  I 
saw  he  had  to  bite  his  lip,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  ;  but 
he  said,  quite  grave,  '  Here,  you  see,  you've  been  mak- 
ing all  these  foolish  marks  on  yourself,  which  you  can 
never  get  out,  and  you'll  be  very  sorry  for  it  in  a  year 
or  two :  now  come  down  to  the  housekeeper's  room, 
and  let  us  see  if  you  are  hurt.'  And  away  went  the 
two,  and  we  all  stayed  and  had  a  regular  turn-out  of 
the  den,  till  Martin  came  back  with  his  hand  ban- 
daged and  turned  us  out.  However,  I'll  go  and  see 
what  he's  after,  and  tell  him  to  come  in  after  prayers 
to  supper."  And  away  went  Tom  to  find  the  boy  in 
question,  who  dwelt  in  a  little  study  by  himself,  in 
New  Row. 

The  aforesaid  Martin,  whom  Arthur  had  taken  such 
a  fancy  for,  was  one  of  those  unfortunates  who  were  at 
that  time  of  day  (and  are,  I  fear,  still)  quite  out  of 
their  places  at  a  public  school.  If  we  knew  how  to 
use  our  boys,  Martin  would  have  been  seized  upon 
and  educated  as  a  natural  philosopher.  He  had  a  pas- 
sion for  birds,  beasts,  and  insects,  and  knew  more  of 
them  and  their  habits  than  any  one  in  Rugby ;  except 
perhaps  the  Doctor,  who  knew  everything.  He  was 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A  FRIEND.  299 

also  an  experimental  chemist  on  a  small  scale,  and  had 
made  unto  himself  an  electric  machine,  from  which  it 
was  his  greatest  pleasure  and  glory  to  administer 
small  shocks  to  any  small  boys  who  were  rash  enough 
to  venture  into  his  study.  And  this  was  by  no  means 
an  adventure  free  from  excitement ;  for,  besides  the 
probability  of  a  snake  dropping  on  to  your  head  or 
twining  lovingly  up  your  leg,  or  a  rat  getting  into 
your  breeches-pocket  in  search  of  food,  there  was  the 
animal  and  chemical  odor  to  be  faced,  which  always 
hung  about  the  den,  and  the  chance  of  being  blown 
up  in  some  of  the  many  experiments  which  Martin 
was  always  trying,  with  the  most  wondrous  results  in 
the  shape  of  explosions  and  smells  that  mortal  boy 
ever  heard  of.  Of  course,  poor  Martin,  in  conse- 
quence of  his  pursuits,  had  become  an  Ishmaelite  in 
the  house.  In  the  first  place,  he  half-poisoned  all  his 
neighbors,  and  they  in  turn  were  always  on  the  look- 
out to  pounce  upon  any  of  his  numerous  live-stock, 
and  drive  him  frantic  by  enticing  his  pet  old  magpie 
out  of  his  window  into  a  neighboring  study,  and  mak- 
ing the  disreputable  old  bird  drunk  on  toast  soaked  in 
beer  and  sugar.  Then  Martin,  for  his  sins,  inhabited 
a  study  looking  into  a  small  court  some  ten  feet 
across,  the  window  of  which  was  completely  com- 
manded by  those  of  the  studies  opposite  in  the  Sick- 
room Row,  these  latter  being  at  a  slightly  higher 
elevation.  East,  and  another  boy  of  an  equally  tor- 
menting and  ingenious  turn  of  mind,  now  lived  ex- 


300  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

actly  opposite,  and  had  expended  huge  pains  and  time 
in  the  preparation  of  instruments  of  annoyance  for 
the  behoof  of  Martin  and  his  live  colony.  One  morn- 
ing an  old  basket  made  its  appearance,  suspended  by 
a  short  cord  outside  Martin's  window,  in  which  were 
deposited  an  amateur  nest  containing  four  young 
hungry  jackdaws,  the  pride  and  glory  of  Martin's  life 
for  the  time  being,  and  which  he  was  currently  as- 
serted to  have  hatched  upon  his  own  person.  Early 
in  the  morning,  and  late  at  night  he  was  to  be  seen 
half  out  of  window,  administering  to  the  varied  wants 
of  his  callow  brood.  After  deep  cogitation,  East  and 
his  chum  had  spliced  a  knife  on  to  the  end  of  a  fish- 
ing-rod; and  having  watched  Martin  out,  had,  after 
half-an-hour's  severe  sawing,  cut  the  string  by  Avhich 
the  basket  was  suspended,  and  tumbled  it  on  to  the 
pavement  below,  with  hideous  remonstrance  from  the 
occupants.  Poor  Martin,  returning  from  his  short 
absence,  collected  the  fragments  and  replaced  his 
brood  (except  one  whose  neck  had  been  broken  in  the 
descent)  in  their  old  location,  suspending  them  this 
time  by  string  and  wire  twisted  together,  defiant  of 
any  sharp  instrument  which  his  persecutors  could 
command.  But,  like  the  Russian  engineers  at  Sebas- 
topol,  East  and  his  chum  had  an  answer  for  every 
move  of  the  adversary ;  and  the  next  day  had 
mounted  a  gun  in  the  shape  of  a  pea-shooter  upon  the 
ledge  of  their  window,  trained  so  as  to  bear  exactly 
upon  the  spot  which  Martin  had  to  occupy  while  tend- 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A  FRIEND.  301 

ing  his  nurselings.  The  moment  he  began  to  feed, 
they  began  to  shoot ;  in  vain  did  the  enemy  himself 
invest  in  a  pea-shooter,  and  endeavor  to  answer  the 
fire  while  he  fed  the  young  birds  with  his  other  hand ; 
his  attention  was  divided,  and  his  shots  flew  wild, 
while  every  one  of  theirs  told  on  his  face  and  hands, 
and  drove  him  into  bowlings  and  imprecations.  He 
had  been  driven  to  ensconce  the  nest  in  a  corner  of 
his  already  too  well-filled  den. 

His  door  was  barricaded  by  a  set  of  ingenious  bolts 
of  his  own  invention,  for  the  sieges  were  frequent  by 
the  neighbors  when  any  unusually  ambrosial  odor 
spread  itself  from  the  den  to  the  neighboring  studies. 
The  door  panels  were  in  a  normal  state  of  smash, 
but  the  frame  of  the  door  resisted  all  besiegers,  and 
behind  it  the  owner  carried  on  his  varied  pursuits ; 
much  in  the  same  state  of  mind,  I  should  fancy,  as 
a  Border-farmer  lived  in,  in  the  days  of  the  old 
moss-troopers,  when  his  hold  might  be  summoned 
or  his  cattle  carried  off  at  any  minute  of  night  or 
day. 

"  Open,  Martin,  old  boy — it's  only  I,  Tom  Brown." 

"  Oh,  very  well,  stop  a  moment."  One  bolt  went 
back.  "You're  sure  East  isn't  there?" 

"No,  no,  hang  it,  open."  Tom  gave  a  kick,  the 
other  bolt  creaked,  and  he  entered  the  den. 

Den  indeed  it  was,  about  five  feet  six  inches  long 
by  five  feet  wide,  and  seven  feet  high.  About  six 
tattered  schoolbooks,  and  a  few  chemical  books, 


302  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Taxidermy,  Stanley  on  Birds,  and  on  odd  volume 
of  Bewick,  the  latter  in  much  better  preservation, 
occupied  the  top  shelves.  The  other  shelves,  where 
they  had  not  been  cut  away  and  used  by  the  owner 
for  other  purposes,  were  fitted  up  for  the  abiding 
places  of  birds,  beasts  and  reptiles.  There  was  no 
attempt  at  carpet  or  curtain.  The  table  was  entirely 
occupied  by  the  great  work  of  Martin,  the  electric 
machine,  which  was  covered  carefully  with  the  remains 
of  his  table-cloth.  The  jackdaw  cage  occupied  one 
wall,  and  the  other  was  adorned  by  a  small  hatchet, 
a  pair  of  climbing  irons,  and  his  tin  candle-box,  in 
which  he  was  for  the  time  being  endeavoring  to  raise 
a  hopeful  young  family  of  field-mice.  As  nothing 
should  be  let  to  lie  useless,  it  was  well  that  the  can- 
dle-box was  thus  occupied,  for  caudles  Martin  never 
had.  A  pound  was  issued  to  him  weekly  as,  to  the 
other  boys,  but  as  candles  were  available  capital,  and 
easily  exchangeable  for  birds'-eggs  or  young  birds, 
Martin's  pound  invariably  found  its  way  in  a  few 
hours  to  Hewlett's  the  bird-fancier's,  in  the  Bilton 
Road,  who  would  give  a  hawk's  or  nightingale's  egg 
or  young  linnet  in  exchange.  Martin's  ingenuity 
was  therefore  for  ever  on  the  rack  to  supply  himself 
with  a  light ;  just  now  he  had  hit  upon  a  grand  inven- 
tion, and  the  den  was  lighted  by  a  flaring  cotton-wick 
issuing  from  a  ginger-beer  bottle  full  of  some  doleful 
composition.  When  light  altogether  failed  him,  Mar- 
tin would  loaf  about  by  the  fires  in  the  passages  or 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A  FRIEXD.  303 

Hall,  after  the  manner  of  Diggs,  and  try  to  do  his 
verses  or  learn  his  lines  by  the  fire-light. 

"  Well,  old  boy,  you  haven't  got  any  sweeter  in 
the  den  this  half.  How  that  stuff  in  the  bottle 
stinks.  Never  mind,  I  ain't  going  to  stop,  but  you 
come  up  after  prayers  to  our  study  ;  you  know  young 
Arthur  ;  we've  got  Gray's  study.  We'll  have  a  good 
supper  and  talk  about  birds'-nesting." 

Martin  was  evidently  highly  pleased  at  the  invita- 
tion, and  promised  to  be  up  without  fajl. 

As  soon  as  prayers  were  over,  and  the  sixth  and 
fifth-form  boys  had  withdrawn  to  the  aristocratic  seclu- 
sion of  their  own  room,  and  the  rest,  or  democracy, 
had  sat  down  to  their  supper  in  the  Hall,  Tom  and 
Arthur  having  secured  their  allowances  of  bread  and 
cheese,  started  on  their  feet  to  catch  the  eye  of  the 
praepostor  of  the  week,  who  remained  in  charge  during 
supper,  walking  up  and  down  the  Hall.  He  happened 
to  be  an  easy-going  fellow,  so  they  got  a  pleasant  nod 
to  their  "  Please  may  I  go  out  ?"  and  away  they  scram- 
bled to  prepare  for  Martin  a  sumptuous  banquet. 
This  Tom  had  insisted  on,  for  he  in  was  in  great  de- 
light on  the  occasion  ;  the  reason  of  which  delight  must 
be  expounded.  The  fact  was,  this  was  the  first  attempt 
at  a  friendship  of  his  own  which  Arthur  had  made,  and 
Tom  hailed  it  as  a  grand  step.  The  ease  with  which 
he  himself  became  hail-fellow-well-met  with  anybody, 
and  blundered  into  and  out  of  twenty  friendships  a 
half-year,  made  him  sometimes  sorry  and  sometimes 


304  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

angry  at  Arthur's  reserve  and  loneliness.  True,  Ar- 
thur was  always  pleasant,  and  even  jolly,  with  any 
boys  who  came  with  Tom  to  their  study :  but  Tom 
felt  that  it  was  only  through  him,  as  it  were,  that  his 
chum  associated  with  others,  and  that  but  for  him 
Arthur  would  have  been  dwelling  in  a  wilderness. 
This  increased  his  consciousness  of  responsibility  ;  and 
though  he  hadn't  reasoned  it  out  and  made  it  clear  to 

O 

himself,  yet  somehow  he  knew  that  this  responsibility, 
this  trust  which  he  had  taken  on  him  without  thinking 
about  it,  head-over-heels  in  fact,  was  the  centre  and 
turning-point  of  his  school-life,  that  which  was  to  make 
him  or  mar  him  ;  his  appointed  work  and  trial  for  the 
time  being.  And  Tom  was  becoming  a  new  boy, 
though  with  frequent  tumbles  in  the  dirt  and  perpetual 
hard  battle  with  himself,  and  was  daily  growing  in 
manfulness  and  thoughtfulness,  as  every  high-couraged 
and  well-principled  boy  must,  when  he  finds  himself 
for  the  first  time  consciously  at  grips  with  self  and  the 
devil.  Already  he  could  turn  almost  without  a  sigh, 
from  the  school-gate,  from  which  had  just  scam- 
pered off  East  and  three  or  four  others  of  his  own  par- 
ticular set,  bound  for  some  jolly  lark  not  quite  accord- 
ing to  law,  and  involving  probably  a  row  with  louts, 
keepers,  or  farm-laborers,  the  skipping  dinner  or  call- 
ing-over, some  of  Phoebe  Jenning's  beer,  and  a  very 
possible  flogging  at  the  end  of  all  as  a  relish.  He  had 
quite  got  over  the  stage  in  which  he  would  grumble  to 
himself,  "  Well,  hang  it,  it's  verv  hard  of  the  Doctor 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A  FRIEND.  305 

to  have  saddled  me  with  Arthur.  Why  couldn't  he 
have  chummed  him  with  Fogey,  or  Thomkin,  or  any 
of  the  fellows  who  never  do  anything  but  walk  round 
the  close,  and  finish  their  copies  the  first  day  they're 
set?"  But  although  all  this  was  past,  he  often  longed, 
and  felt  that  he  was  right  in  longing,  for  more  time  for 
the  legitimate  pastimes  of  cricket,  fives,  bathing,  and 
fishing  within  bounds,  in  which  Arthur  could  not  yet 
be  his  companion  ;  and  he  felt  that  when  the  young 
'un  (as  he  now  generally  called  him)  had  found  a  pur- 
suit and  some  other  friend  for  himself,  he  should  be 
able  to  give  more  time  to  the  education  of  his  own  body 
with  a  clear  conscience. 

And  now  what  he  so  wished  for  had  come  to  pass, 
he  almost  hailed  it  as  a  special  providence  (as  indeed 
in  was,  but  not  for  the  reasons  he  gave  for  it — what 
providences  are  ?)  that  Arthur  should  have  singled  out 
Martin  of  all  fellows  for  a  friend.  "  The  old  Madman 
is  the  very  fellow,"  thought  he;  "he  will  take  him 
scrambling  over  half  the  country  after  birds'  eggs  and 
flowers,  make  hirn  run  and  swim  and  climb  like  an  In- 
dian, and  not  teach  him  a  word  of  anything  bad,  or 
keep  him  from  his  lessons.  What  luck  !"  And  so, 
with  more  than  his  usual  heartiness,  he  dived  into  his 
cupboard,  and  hauled  out  an  old  knuckle-bone  of  ham, 
and  two  or  three  bottles  of  beer,  together  with  the 
solemn  pewter  only  used  on  state  occasions  ;  while 
Arthur,  equally  elated  at  the  easy  accomplishment  of 
his  first  act  of  violation  in  the  joint  establishment, 

20 


306  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

produced  from  his  side  a  bottle  of  pickles  and  a  pot  of 
jam,  and  cleared  the  table.  In  a  minute  or  two  the 
noise  of  the  boys  coming  up  from  supper  was  heard, 
and  Martin  knocked  and  was  admitted,  bearing  his 
bread  and  cheese,  and  the  three  fell  to  with  hearty 
good-will  upon  the  viands,  talking  faster  than  they  ate, 
for  all  shyness  disappeared  in  a  moment  before  Tom's 
bottle  of  beer  and  hospitable  ways.  "  Here's  Arthur, 
a  regular  young  town  mouse,  with  a  natural  taste  for 
the  woods,  Martin,  longing  to  break  his  neck  climbing 
trees,  and  with  a  passion  for  young  snakes." 

"Well,  I  say,"  sputtered  out  Martin,  eagerly,  "will 
you  come  to-morrow,  both  of  you,  to  Caldecott's  Spin- 
ney, then,  for  I  know  of  a  kestrel's  nest,  up  a  fir-tree 
— I  can't  get  at  it  without  help ;  and,  Brown,  you  can 
climb  against  any  one." 

"  Oh  yes,  do  let  us  go,"  said  Arthur  ;  "  I  never  saw 
a  hawk's  nest,  nor  a  hawk's  egg." 

"You  just  come  down  to  my  study  then,  and  I'll 
show  you  five  sorts,"  said  Martin. 

"  Ay.  the  old  Madman  has  got  the  best  collection  in 
the  house,  out-and-out,"  said  Tom  ;  and  then  Martin, 
warming  with  unaccustomed  good  cheer  and  the  chance 
of  a  convert,  launched  out  into  a  proposed  birds'-nest- 
ing  campaign,  betraying  all  manner  of  important  se- 
crets; a  golden-crested  wren's  nest  near  Butlin's 
Mound,  a  moor-hen  that  was  sitting  on  nine  eggs  in  a 
pond  down  the  Barby  Road,  and  a  kingfisher's  nest  in 
a  corner  of  the  old  canal  above  Brownsover  Mill.  He 


AKTHUK  MAKES  A  FRIEND.  307 

had  heard,  he  said,  that  no  one  had  ever  got  a  king- 
fisher's nest  out  perfect,  and  that  the  British  Museum, 
or  the  Government,  or  somebody,  had  offered  X100  to 
any  one  who  could  bring  them  a  nest  and  eggs  not 
damaged.  In  the  middle  of  which  astounding  an- 
nouncement, to  which  the  others  were  listening  with 
open  ears,  already  considering  the  application  of  the 
c£100,  a  knock  came  at  the  door,  and  East's  voice  was 
heard  craving  admittance. 

"There's  Harry,"  said  Tom;  "we'll  let  him  in — 
I'll  keep  him  steady,  Martin.  I  thought  the  old  boy 
would  smell  out  the  supper." 

The  fact  was  that  Tom's  heart  had  already  smitten 
him  for  not  asking  his  "  fidus  Achates"  to  the  feast, 
although  only  an  extempore  affair ;  and  though  pru- 
dence and  the  desire  to  get  Martin  and  Arthur  together 
alone  at  first  had  overcome  his  scruples,  he  was  now 
heartily  glad  to  open  the  door,  broach  another  bottle 
of  beer,  and  hand  over  the  old  ham-knuckle  to  the 
searching  of  his  old  friend's  pocket-knife. 

"Ah,  you  greedy  vagabonds,"  said  East,  with  his 
mouth  full;  "I  knew  there  was  something  going  on 
when  I  saw  you  cut  off  out  of  Hall  so  quick  with  your 
suppers.  What  a  stunning  tap,  Tom  !  you  are  a  wun- 
ner  for  bottling  the  swipes." 

"  I've  had  practice  enough  for  the  sixth  in  my  time, 
and  it's  hard  if  I  haven't  picked  up  a  wrinkle  or  two 
for  my  own  benefit." 

"  Well,  old  Madman,  how  goes   the  birds'-nesting 


308  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

campaign  ?  HOAV'S  Hewlett  ?  I  expect  that  young 
rooks'll  be  out  in  another  fortnight,  and  then  my  turn 
comes." 

"  There'll  be  no  young  rooks  fit  for  pies  for  a  month 
yet;  shows  how  much  you  know  about  it,"  rejoined 
Martin,  who,  though  very  good  friends  with  East,  re- 
garded him  with  considerable  suspicion  for  his  pro- 
pensity to  practical  jokes. 

"  Scud  knows  nothing  and  cares  for  nothing  but 
grub  and  mischief,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  young  rook  pie, 
specially  when  you've  had  to  climb  for  them,  is  very 
pretty  eating.  However,  I  say,  Scud,  we're  all  going 
after  a  hawk's  nest  to-morrow,  in  Caldecott's  Spinney  ; 
and  if  you'll  come  and  behnve  yourself,  we'll  have  a 
stunning  climb." 

"  And  a  bathe  in  Aganippe.  Hooray !  I'm  your 
man  !" 

"  No,  no ;  no  bathing  in  Aganippe ;  that's  where 
our  betters  go." 

"  A\Tell,  well,  never  mind.  I'm  for  the  hawk's  nest 
and  anything  that  turns  up." 

And  the  bottled-beer  being  finished,  and  his  hunger 
appeased,  East  departed  to  his  study,  "  that  sneak 
Jones,"  as  he  informed  them,  who  had  just  got  into  the 
sixth  and  occupied  the  next  study,  having  instituted  a 
nightly  visitation  upon  East  and  his  chum,  to  their  no 
small  discomfort. 

When  he  was  gone,  Martin  rose  to  follow,  but  Tom 
stopped  him.  "  No  one  goes  near  New  Row,"  said  he, 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A   FRIEND.  309 

"  so  you  may  just  as  well  stop  here  and  do  your  verses, 
and  then  we'll  have  some  more  talk.  We'll  be  no 
end  quiet;  besides,  no  praepostor  comes  here  now — we 
haven't  been  visited  once  this  half." 

So  the  table  was  cleared,  the  cloth  restored,  and  the 
three  fell  to  work  with  Gradus  and  dictionary  upon  the 
morning's  vulgus. 

They  were  three  very  fair  examples  of  the  way  in 
which  such  tasks  were  done  at  Rugby,  in  the  con- 
sulship of  Plancus.  And  doubtless  the  method  is  little 
changed,  for  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  es- 
pecially at  schools. 

Now  be  it  known  unto  all  you  boys  who  are  at 
schools  which  do  not  rejoice  in  time-honored  institu- 
tion of  the  Vulgus,  (commonly  supposed  to  have  been 
established  by  William  of  Wykcham  at  Winchester, 
and  imported  to  Rugby  by  Arnold,  more  for  the  sake 
of  the  lines  which  were  learnt  by  heart  with  it,  than 
for  its  own  intrinsic  value,  as  I've  always  understood) 
that  it  is  a  short  exercise,  in  Greek  or  Latin  verse,  on 
a  given  subject,  the  minimum  number  of  lines  being 
fixed  for  each  form.  The  master  of  the  form  gave 
out  at  fourth  lesson  on  the  previous  day  the  subject 
for  next  morning's  vulgus,  and  at  first  lesson  each  boy 
had  to  bring  his  vulgus  ready  to  be  looked  over ;  and 
with  the  vulgus,  a  certain  number  of  lines  from  one  of 
the  Latin  or  Greek  poets  then  being  construed  in  the 
form  had  to  be  got  by  heart.  The  master  at  first  les- 
son called  up  each  boy  in  the  form  in  order,  and  put 


310  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

him  on  in  the  lines.  If  he  couldn't  say  them,  or  seem 
to  say  them,  by  reading  them  off  the  master's  or  some 
other  boy's  book  who  stood  near,  he  was  sent  back, 
and  went  below  all  the  boys  who  did  so  say  or  seem  to 
say  them  ;  but  in  either  case  his  vulgus  was  looked 
over  by  the  master,  who  gave  and  entered  in  his  book, 
to  the  credit  or  discredit  of  the  boy,  so  many  marks  as 
the  composition  merited.  At  Rugby  vulgus  and  lines 
were  the  first  lesson  every  other  day  in  the  week,  or 
Tuesdays,  Thursdays,  and  Saturdays ;  and  as  there 
were  thirty-eight  weeks  in  the  school  year,  it  is  obvious 
to  the  meanest  capacity  that  the  master  of  each  form 
had  to  set  one  hundred  and  fourteen  subjects  every 
year,  two  hundred  and  twenty-eight  every  two  years, 
and  so  on.  Now  to  persons  of  moderate  invention  this 
was  a  considerable  task,  and  human  nature  being 
prone  to  repeat  itself,  it  will  not  be  wondered  that  the 
masters  gave  the  same  subjects  sometimes  over  again 
after  a  certain  lapse  of  time.  To  meet  and  rebuke 
this  bad  habit  of  the  masters,  the  school-boy-mind, 
with  its  accustomed  ingenuity,  had  invented  an  elabor- 
ate system  of  tradition.  Almost  every  boy  kept  his 
own  vulgus  written  out  in  a  book,  and  these  books 
were  duly  handed  down  from  boy  to  boy,  till  (if  the 
tradition  has  gone  on  till  now)  I  suppose  the  popular 
boys,  in  whose  hands  bequeathed  vulgus-books  have 
accumulated,  are  prepared  with  three  or  four  vulguses 
on  any  subjects  in  heaven  or  earth,  or  in  "more 
worlds  than  one,"  which  an  unfortunate  master  can 


ARTHUR   MAKES  A   FRIEND.  311 

pitch  upon.  At  any  rate,  such  lucky  fellows  had  gen- 
erally one  for  themselves  and  one  for  a  friend  in  my 
time.  The  only  objection  to  the  traditionary  method 
of  doing  your  vulguses  was,  the  risk  that  the  succes- 
sions might  have  become  confused,  and  so  that  you  and 
another  follower  of  traditions  should  show  up  the  same 
identical  vulgus  some  fine  morning ;  in  which  case, 
when  it  happened,  considerable  grief  was  the  result — 
but  when  did  such  risk  hinder  boys  or  men  from  short 
cuts  and  pleasant  paths  ? 

Now  in  the  study  that  night,  Tom  was  the  upholder 
of  the  traditionary  method  of  vulgus  doing.  He  care- 
fully produced  two  large  vulgus-books,  and  began 
diving  into  them,  and  picking  out  a  line  here,  and  an 
ending  there  (tags,  as  they  were  vulgarly  called),  till 
he  had  gotten  all  that  he  thought  he  could  make  fit. 
He  then  proceeded  to  patch  his  tags  together  with  the 
help  of  his  Gradus,  producing  an  incongruous  and 
feeble  result  of  eight  elegiac  lines,  the  minimum 
quantity  for  his  form,  and  finishing  up  with  two  highly 
moral  lines  extra,  making  ten  in  all,  which  he  cribbed 
entire  from  one  of  his  books,  beginning  "  0  genus 
humanum,"  and  which  he  himself  must  have  used  a 
dozen  times  before,  whenever  an  unfortunate  or  wicked 
hero,  of  whatever  nation  or  language  under  the  sun, 
was  the  subject.  Indeed,  he  began  to  have  great 
doubts  whether  the  master  wouldn't  remember  them, 
and  so  only  threw  them  in  as  extra  lines,  because  in 
any  case  they  would  call  off  attention  from  the  other 


312  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

tags,  and  if  detected,  being  extra  lines,  he  wouldn't 
be  sent  back  to  do  two  more  in  their  place,  while  if 
they  passed  muster  again  he  would  get  marks  for  them. 

The  second  method  pursued  by  Martin  may  be 
called  the  dogged,  or  prosaic  method.  He,  no  more 
than  Tom,  took  any  pleasure  in  the  task,  but  having 
no  old  vulgus-books  of  his  own,  or  any  one's  else,  could 
not  follow  the  traditionary  method,  for  which  too,  as 
Tom  remarked,  he  hadn't  the  genius.  Martin  then 
proceeded  to  write  down  eight  lines  in  English,  of  the 
most  matter-of  fact  kind,  the  first  that  came  into  his 
mind  and  to  convert  these,  line  by  line,  by  main  force 
of  Gradus  and  dictionary,  into  Latin  that  would  scan. 
This  was  all  he  cared  for,  to  produce  eight  lines  with 
no  false  quantities  or  concords  :  whether  the  words  were 
apt,  or  what  the  sense  was,  mattered  nothing;  and,  as 
the  article  was  all  new,  not  a  line  beyond  the  minimum 
did  the  followers  of  the  dogged  method  ever  produce. 

The  third,  or  artistic  method,  was  Arthur's.  He 
considered  first  what  point  in  the  character  or  event 
which  was  the  subject  could  most  neatly  be  brought 
out  within  the  limits  of  a  vulgus,  trying  always  to  get 
his  idea  into  the  eight  lines,  but  not  binding  himself 
to  ten  or  even  twelve  lines  if  he  couldn't  do  this.  He 
then  set  to  work,  as  much  as  possible  without  Gradus 
or  other  help,  to  clothe  his  idea  in  appropriate  Latin 
or  Greek,  and  would  not  be  satisfied  till  he  had 
polished  it  well  up  with  the  aptcst  and  most  poetic 
words  and  phrases  he  could  get  at. 


ARTHUR  MAKES  A   FKIEND.  313 

A  fourth  method  indeed  was  used  in  the  school,  but 
of  too  simple  a  kind  to  require  comment.  It  may  be 
called  the  vicarious  method,  obtained  amongst  big 
boys  of  lazy  or  bullying  habits,  and  consisted  simply 
in  making  clever  boys  whom  they  could  thrash  do 
their  whole  vulgus  for  them,  and  construe  it  to  them 
afterwards ;  which  latter  is  a  method  not  to  be  encour- 
aged, and  which  I  strongly  advise  you  all  not  to  prac- 
tise. Of  the  others,  you  will  find  the  traditionary 
most  troublesome,  unless  you  can  steal  your  vulguses 
whole  (experto  crede),  and  that  the  artistic  method 
pays  the  best  both  in  marks  and  other  ways. 

The  vulguses  being  finished  by  nine  o'clock,  and 
Martin  having  rejoiced  above  measure  in  the  abun- 
dance of  light,  and  of  Gradus  and  dictionary,  and 
other  conveniences  almost  unknown  to  him  for  get- 
ting through  the  work,  and  having  been  pressed  by 
Arthur  to  come  and  do  his  verses  there  whenever  he 
liked,  the  three  boys  went  down  to  Martin's  den,  and 
Arthur  Avas  initiated  into  ihe  lore  of  bird's  eggs,  to 
his  great  delight.  The  exquisite  coloring  and  forms 
astonished  and  charmed  him  who  had  scarcely  ever 
seen  any  but  a  hen's  egg  or  an  ostrich's,  and  by  the 
time  he  was  lugged  away  to  bed  he  had  learned  the 
names  of  at  least  twenty  sorts,  and  dreamt  of  the 
glorious  perils  of  tree-climbing  and  that  he  had  found 
a  roc's  egg  in  the  island  as  big  as  Sinbad's  and  cloud- 
ed like  a  tit-lark's,  in  blowing  which  Martin  and  he 
had  nearly  been  drowned  in  the  yolk. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  BIKD-FANCIERS. 

"I  have  found  out  a  gift  for  my  fair, 

I  have  found  where  the  wood-pigeons  hreed : 
But  let  me  the  plunder  forbear, 

She  would  say  'twas  a  barbarous  deed." 

KOWE. 

"And  now,  my  lad,  take  them  five  shilling, 

And  on  my  advice  in  future  think  ; 
So  Billy  pouched  them  all  so  willing, 
And  got  that  night  disguised  in  drink." 

MS.  BALLAD. 

THE  next  morning  at  first  lesson  Tom  was  turned 
back  in  his  lines,  and  so  had  to  wait  till  the  second 
round,  while  Martin  and  Arthur  said  theirs  all  right 
and  got  out  of  school  at  once.  When  Tom  got  out 
and  ran  down  to  breakfast  at  Harrowell's  they  were 
missing,  and  Stumps  informed  him  that  they  had  swal- 
lowed down  their  breakfasts  and  gone  off  together, 
where,  he  couldn't  say.  Tom  hurried  over  his  own 
breakfast,  and  went  first  to  Martin's  study  and  then 
to  his  own,  but  no  signs  of  the  missing  boys  were  to 
be  found.  He  felt  half  angry  and  jealous  of  Martin 
— where  could  they  be  gone? 

314 


THE  QUADRANGLE,  RUGBY 


THE  BIRD-FAXCIERS.  315 

He  learnt  second  lesson  with  East  and  the  rest  in 
no  very  good  temper,  and  then  went  out  into  the 
quadrangle.  About  ten  minutes  before  school  Mar- 
tin and  Arthur  arrived  in  the  quadrangle  breathless ; 
and,  catching  sight  of  him,  Arthur  rushed  up  all  ex- 
citement and  with  a  bright  glow  on  his  face. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  look  here,"  cried  he,  holding  out  three 
moor-hen's  eggs  ;  "  we've  been  down  the  Barby  Road 
to  the  pool  Martin  told  us  of  last  night,  and  just  see 
what  we've  got." 

Tom  wouldn't  be  pleased,  and  only  looked  out  for 
something  to  find  fault  with. 

••  W  hy,  young  un,"  said  he,  "what  have  you  been 
after  ?  You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  been  wading  ?" 

The  tone  of  reproach  made  poor  little  Arthur  shrink 
up  in  a  moment  and  look  piteous,  and  Tom  Avith  a 
shrug  of  his  shoulders  turned  his  anger  on  Martin. 

"  Well,  I  didn't  think.  Madman,  that  you'd  have 
been  such  a  muff  as  to  let  him  be  getting  wet  through 
at  this  time  of  day.  You  might  have  done  the  wading 
yourself." 

••  >o  I  did,  of  course,  only  he  would  come  in  too  to 
see  the  nest.  We  left  six  little  eggs  in ;  they'll  be 
hatched  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  Hang  the  eggs  !"  said  Tom  ;  "  a  fellow  can't  turn 
his  back  for  a  moment  but  all  his  work's  undone. 
He'll  be  laid  up  for  a  week  for  this  precious  lark.  I'll 
be  bound." 

'•Indeed,   Tom,  now,"   pleaded   Arthur,    "my  feet 


316  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

ain't  wet,  for  Martin  made  me  take  off  my  shoes 
and  stockings  and  trousers." 

"But  they  are  wet  and  dirty,  too — can't  I  see?" 
answered  Tom  ;  "  and  you'll  be  called  up  and  floored 
when  the  master  sees  what  a  state  you're  in.  You 
haven't  looked  at  second  lesson,  you  know."  Oh 
Tom,  you  old  humbug  !  you  to  be  upbraiding  any 
one  with  not  learning  their  lessons  !  If  you  hadn't 
been  floored  yourself  now  at  first  lesson,  do  you  mean 
to  say  you  Avouldn't  have  been  with  them  ?  and  you've 
taken  away  all  poor  little  Arthur's  joy  and  pride  in 
his  first  birds'  eggs;  and  he  goes  and  puts  them  down 
in  the  study,  and  takes  down  his  books  with  a  sigh, 
thinking  he  has  done  something  horribly  wrong, 
whereas  he  has  learnt  on  in  advance  much  more  than 
will  be  done  at  second  lesson. 

But  the  old  Madman  hasn't,  and  gets  called  up  and 
makes  some  frightful  shots,  losing  about  ten  places, 
and  all  but  getting  floored.  Tins  somewhat  appeases 
Tom's  wrath,  and  by  the  end  of  the  lesson  he  lias 
regained  his  temper.  And  afterwards  in  their  study 
he  begins  to  get  right  again,  as  he  watches  Arthur's 
intense  joy  at  seeing  Martin  blowing  the  eggs  and 
glueing  them  carefully  on  to  bits  of  cai'dboard,  and 
notes  the  anxious  loving  looks  which  the  little  fellow 
casts  sidelong  at  him.  And  then  he  thinks,  "  What 
an  ill-tempered  beast  I  am  !  Here's  just  what  I  was 
wishing  for  last  night  come  about,  and  I'm  spoiling 
it  all,"  and  in  another  five  minutes  has  swallowed  the 


THE  BIRD-FANCIERS.  317 

last  mouthful  of  his  bile,  and  is  repaid  by  seeing  his 
little  sensitive-plant  expand  again,  and  sun  itself  in 
his  smiles. 

After  dinner  the  Madman  is  busy  with  the  prepara- 
tions for  their  expedition,  fitting  new  straps  on  to  his 
climbing  irons,  filling  large  pill-boxes  with  cotton 
wool,  and  sharpening  East's  small  axe.  They  carry 
all  their  munitions  into  calling-over,  and  directly 
afterwards,  having  dodged  such  praepostors  as  are  on 
the  look-out  for  fags  at  cricket,  the  four  set  off  at  a 
smart  trot  down  the  Lawford  footpath  straight  for 
Caldecott's  Spinney  and  the  hawk's  nest. 

Martin  leads  the  way  in  high  feather ;  it  is  quite  a 
new  sensation  to  him  getting  companions,  and  he  finds 
it  very  pleasant,  and  means  to  show  them  all  manner 
of  proofs  of  his  science  and  skill.  Brown  and  East 
may  be  better  at  cricket  and  football  and  games, 
thinks  he,  but  out  in  the  fields  and  woods  see  if  I  can't 
teach  them  something.  He  has  taken  the  leadership 
already,  and  strides  away  in  front  with  his  climbing- 
irons  strapped  under  one  arm,  his  pecking-bag  under 
the  other,  and  his  pockets  and  hat  full  of  pill-boxes, 
cotton  wool,  and  other  etceteras.  Each  of  the  others 
carries  a  pecking-bag  and  East  his  hatchet. 

When  they  had  crossed  three  or  four  fields  without 
a  check,  Arthur  began  to  lag,  and  Tom  seeing  this 
shouted  to  Martin  to  pull  up  a  bit :  "  We  ain't  out 
Hare-and-hounds — what's  the  good  of  grinding  on  at 
this  rate  ?" 


318  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"There's  the  Spinney,"  said  Martin,  pulling  up  on 
the  brow  of  a  slope  at  the  bottom  of  which  lay  Law- 
ford  brook,  and  pointing  to  the  top  of  the  opposite 
slope ;  "  the  nest  is  in  one  of  those  high  fir-trees  at 
this  end.  And  down  by  the  brook  there,  I  know  of  a 
sedge-bird's  nest;  we'll  go  and  look  at  it  coming 
back." 

"  Oh,  come  on,  don't  let  us  stop,"  said  Arthur,  who 
was  getting  excited  at  the  sight  of  the  wood  ;  so  they 
broke  into  a  trot  again,  and  were  soon  across  the 
brook,  up  the  slope,  and  into  the  Spinney.  Here 
they  advanced  as  noiselessly  as  possible,  lest  keepers 
or  other  enemies  should  be  about,  and  stopped  at  the 
foot  of  a  tall  fir,  at  the  top  of  which  Martin  pointed 
out  with  pride  the  kestrel's  nest,  the  object  of  their 
quest. 

"  Oh  where  !  which  is  it?"  asks  Arthur,  gaping  up 
in  the  air,  and  having  the  most  vague  idea  of  what  it 
would  be  like. 

"  There,  don't  you  see  ?"  said  East,  pointing  to  a 
lump  of  mistletoe  in  the  next  tree,  which  was  a  beech  : 
he  saw  that  Martin  and  Tom  were  busy  with  the 
climbing-irons,  and  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  of 
hoaxing.  Arthur  stared  and  wondered  more  than 
ever. 

"  Well,  how  curious  !  it  doesn't  look  a  bit  like  what 
I  expected,"  said  he. 

"Very  odd  birds,  kestrels,"  said  East,  looking 
waggishly  at  his  victim,  who  was  still  star-gazing. 


THE  BIRD-FANCIERS.  319 

"But  I  thought  it  was  in  a  fir-tree?"  objected 
Arthur. 

"  Ah,  don't  YOU  know  ?  that's  a  new  sort  of  fir, 
which  old  Caldecott  brought  from  the  Himalayas." 

"  Really  !"  said  Arthur;  "  I'm  glad  I  know  that — 
how  unlike  our  firs  they  are !  They  do  very  well  too 
here,  don't  they?  the  Spinney's  full  of  them." 

"What's  that  humbug  he's  telling  you?"  cried 
Tom,  looking  up,  having  caught  the  word  Himalayas, 
and  suspecting  what  East  was  after. 

"  Only  about  this  fir,"  said  Arthur,  putting  his 
hand  on  the  stem  of  the  beech. 

"Fir!"  shouted  Tom,  "why,  you  don't  mean  to 
say,  young  'un,  you  don't  know  a  beech  when  you  see 
one?" 

Poor  little  Arthur  looked  terribly  ashamed,  and 
East  exploded  in  laughter  which  made  the  wood  ring. 

"  I've  hardly  ever  seen  any  trees,"  faltered  Arthur. 

••  What  a  shame  to  hoax  him,  Scud  !"  cried  Martin. 
"  Never,  mind,  Arthur,  you  shall  know  more  about 
trees  than  he  does  in  a  week  or  two." 

"And  isn't  that  the  kestrel's  nest,  then?"  asked 
Arthur. 

"  That !  why,  that's  a  piece  of  mistletoe.  There's 
the  nest,  that  lump  of  sticks  up  this  fir." 

"Don't  believe  him  Arthur,"  struck  in  the  incor- 
rigible East;  "  I  just  saw  an  old  magpie  go  out  of 
it." 

Martin  did  not  deign  to  reply  to  this  sally,  except 


320  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

by  a  grunt,  as  be  buckled  tbe  last  buckle  of  bis 
climbing-irons :  and  Artbur  looked  reproachfully  at 
East  without  speaking. 

But  now  came  the  tug  of  Avar.  It  was  a  very  diffi- 
cult tree  to  climb  until  the  branches  were  reached,  the 
first  of  which  was  some  fourteen  feet  up,  for  the  trunk 
was  too  large  at  the  bottom  to  be  swarmed  ;  in  fact, 
neither  of  the  boys  could  reach  more  than  half  round 
it  with  their  arms.  Martin  and  Tom,  both  of  whom 
had  irons  on,  tried  it  without  success  at  first ;  the  fir 
bark  broke  away  where  they  stuck  the  irons  in  as 
soon  as  they  leant  any  weight  on  their  feet,  and  the 
grip  of  their  arms  wasn't  enough  to  keep  them  up ; 
so,  after  getting  up  three  or  four  feet,  down  they  came 
slithering  to  the  ground,  barking  their  arms  and  faces. 
They  were  furious,  and  East  sat  by  laughing  and 
shouting  at  each  failure,  "  Two  to  one  on  the  old 
magpie  !" 

"  We  must  try  a  pyramid,"  said  Tom  at  last. 
"  Now,  Scud,  you  lazy  rascal,  stick  yourself  against 
the  tree  !" 

"  I  dare  say  !  and  have  you  standing  on  my  shoul- 
ders with  the  irons  on  :  what  do  you  think  my  skin's 
made  of?"  However,  up  he  got,  and  leant  against 
the  tree,  putting  his  head  down  and  clasping  it  with 
his  arms  as  far  as  he  could.  "NoAV  then,  Madman," 
said  Tom,  "you  next." 

"No,  I'm  lighter  than  you;  you  go  next."  So 
Tom  got  on  East's  shoulders,  and  grasped  the  tree 


THE  BIRD-FANCIERS.  321 

above,  and  then  Martin  scrambled  up  on  Toni's  shoul- 
ders, amidst  the  totterings  and  groanings  of  the  pyra- 
mid, and,  with  a  spring  "which  sent  his  supporters 
howling  to  the  ground,  clasped  the  stem  some  ten  feet 
up,  and  remained  clinging.  For  a  moment  or  two 
they  thought  he  couldn't  get  up,  but  then,  holding  on 
with  arms  and  teeth,  he  worked  first  one  iron,  then 
the  other,  firmly  into  the  bark,  got  another  grip  with 
his  arms,  and  in  another  minute  had  hold  of  the  lowest 
branch. 

"All  up  \vith  the  old  magpie  now,"  said  East;  and, 
after  a  minute's  rest,  up  went  Martin,  hand  over  hand, 
watched  by  Arthur  with  fearful  eagerness. 

"  Isn't  it  very  dangerous  ?"  said  he. 

"Not  a  bit,"  answered  Tom;  "you  can't  hurt  if 
you  only  get  good  hand-hold.  Try  every  branch  with 
a  good  pull  before  you  trust  it,  and  then  up  you  go." 

Martin  was  now  amongst  the  small  branches  close 
to  the  nest,  and  away  dashed  the  old  bird,  and  soared 
up  above  the  trees,  watching  the  intruder. 

"  All  right — four  eggs  !"  shouted  he. 

"Take  'em  all!"  shouted  East;  "that'll  be  one 
apiece." 

"  No,  no  !  leave  one,  and  then  she  won't  care,"  said 
Tom. 

We  boys  had  an  idea  that  birds  couldn't  count,  and 
were  quite  content  as  long  as  you  left  one  egg.  I  hope 
it  is  so. 

Martin  carefully  put  one  egg  into  each  of  his  boxes 
21 


322  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  the  third  into  his  mouth,  the  only  other  place  of 
safety,  and  came  down  like  a  lamplighter.  All  went 
well  till  he  was  within  ten  feet  of  the  ground,  when,  as 
the  trunk  enlarged,  his  hold  got  less  and  less  firm,  and 
at  last  down  he  came  with  a  run,  tumbling  on  to  his 
back  on  the  turf,  spluttering  and  spitting  out  the 
remains  of  the  great  egg,  which  had  broken  by  the  jar 
of  his  fall. 

"  Ugh,  ugh — something  to  drink — ugh  !  it  was 
addled,"  spluttered  he,  while  the  wood  rang  again  with 
the  merry  laughter  of  East  and  Tom. 

Then  they  examined  the  prizes,  gathered  up  their 
thino-s,  and  went  off  to  the  brook,  where  Martin  swal- 

O     7  ' 

lowed  huge  draughts  of  water  to  get  rid  of  the  taste ; 
and  they  visited  the  sedge-bird's  nest,  and  from  thence 
struck  across  the  country  in  high  glee,  beating  the 
hedges  and  brakes  as  they  went  along ;  and  Arthur  at 
last,  to  his  intense  delight,  was  allowed  to  climb  a  small 
hedgerow  oak  for  a  magpie's  nest  with  Tom,  who  kept 
all  round  him  like  a  mother,  and  showed  him  where  to 
hold  and  how  to  throw  his  weight ;  and  though  he  was 
in  a  great  fright,  didn't  show  it ;  and  was  applauded  by 
all  for  his  lissomness. 

They  crossed  a  road  soon  afterwards,  and  there  close 
to  them  lay  a  heap  of  charming  pebbles. 

"Look  here,"  shouted  East,  "here's  luck!  I've 
been  longing  for  some  good  honest  pecking  this  half 
hour.  Let's  fill  the  bags,  and  have  no  more  of  this 
foozling  bird's-nesting." 


THE  BIRD-FANCIERS.  323 

No  one  objected,  so  each  boy  filled  the  fustian  bag 
he  carried  full  of  stones :  they  crossed  into  the  next 
field,  Tom  and  East  taking  one  side  of  the  hedges,  and 
the  other  two  the  other  side.  Noise  enough  they  made 
certainly,  but  it  was  too  early  in  the  season  for  the 
young  birds,  and  the  old  birds  were  too  strong  on  the 
wing  for  our  young  marksmen,  and  flew  out  of  shot 
after  the  first  discharge.  But  it  was  great  fun,  rushing 
along  the  hedgerows,  and  discharging  stone  after 
stone  at  blackbirds  and  chaffinches,  though  no  result 
in  the  shape  of  slaughtered  birds  was  obtained :  and 
Arthur  soon  entered  into  it,  and  rushed  to  head  back 
the  birds,  and  shouted,  and  threw,  and  tumbled  into 
ditches  and  over  and  through  hedges,  as  wild  as  the 
Madman  himself. 

Presently  the  party,  in  full  cry  after  an  old  black- 
bird (who  was  evidently  used  to  the  thing  and  enjoyed 
the  fun,  for  he  would  wait  till  they  came  close  to  him 
and  then  fly  on  for  forty  yards  or  so,  and,  with  an 
impudent  flicker  of  his  tail,  dart  into  the  depths  of  the 
quickset)  came  beating  down  a  high  double  hedge, 
two  on  each  side. 

"There  he  is  again,"  "Head  him,"  "Let  drive," 
"I  had  him  there,"  "  Take  care  where  you're  throw- 
ing, Madman,"  the  shouts  might  have  been  heard  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  off.  They  were  heard  some  two 
hundred  yards  off  by  a  farmer  and  two  of  his  shep- 
herds, who  were  doctoring  sheep  in  a  fold  in  the  next 
field. 


324  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Now,  the  farmer  in  question  rented  a  house  and 
yard  situate  at  the  end  of  the  field  in  which  the  young 
bird-fanciers  had  arrived,  which  house  and  yard  he 
didn't  occupy  or  keep  any  one  else  in.  Nevertheless, 
like  a  brainless  and  unreasoning  Briton,  he  persisted 
in  maintaining  on  the  premises  a  large  stock  of  cocks, 
hens,  and  other  poultry.  Of  course,  all  sorts  of  dep- 
redators visited  the  place  from  time  to  time :  foxes  and 
gipsies  wrought  havoc  in  the  night ;  while  in  the  day 
time,  I  regret  to  have  to  confess  that  visits  from  the 
Rugby  boys,  and  consequent  disappearance  of  ancient 
and  respectable  fowls,  were  not  unfrequent.  Tom  and 
East  had  during  the  period  of  their  outlawry  visited 
the  barn  in  question  for  felonious  purposes,  and  on 
one  occasion  had  conquered  and  slain  a  duck  there, 
and  borne  away  the  carcase  triumphantly,  hidden  in 
their  handkerchiefs.  However,  they  were  sickened  of 
the  practice  by  the  trouble  and  anxiety  which  the 
wretched  duck's  body  caused  them.  They  carried  it 
to  Sally  Harrowell's  in  hopes  of  a  good  supper ;  but 
she,  after  examining  it,  made  a  long  face,  and  refused 
to  dress  or  have  anything  to  do  with  it.  Then  they 
took  it  into  their  study,  and  began  plucking  it  them- 
selves ;  but  what  to  do  with  the  feathers, — where  to 
hide  them  ? 

"  Good  gracious,  Tom,  what  a  lot  of  feathers  a  duck 
has !"  groaned  East,  holding  a  bagful  in  his  hand,  and 
looking  disconsolately  at  the  carcase,  not  yet  half 
plucked. 


THE  BIRD-FANCIERS.  325 

"  And  I  do  think  he's  getting  high  too,  already," 
said  Tom,  smelling  at  him  cautiously,  "  so  we  must 
finish  him  up  soon." 

"  Yes,  all  very  well ;  but  how  are  we  to  cook  him  ? 
I'm  sure  I  ain't  going  to  try  it  on  in  the  hall  or 
passages ;  we  can't  afford  to  be  roasting  ducks  about, 
our  character's  too  bad." 

"  I  wish  we  were  rid  of  the  brute,"  said  Tom,  throw- 
ing him  on  the  table  in  disgust.  And  after  a  day  or 
two  more  it  became  clear  that  got  rid  of  he  must  be ; 
so  they  packed  him  and  sealed  him  up  in  brown  paper, 
and  put  him  in  the  cupboard  of  an  unoccupied  study, 
where  he  was  found  in  the  holidays  by  the  matron,  a 
grewsorne  body. 

They  had  never  been  duck-hunting  there  since,  but 
others  had,  and  the  bold  yeoman  was  very  sore  on  the 
subject,  and  bent  on  making  an  example  of  the  first 
boys  he  could  catch.  So  he  and  his  shepherds  crouched 
behind  the  hurdles,  and  watched  the  party,  who  were 
approaching  all  unconscious. 

"W  hy  should  that  old  guinea-fowl  be  lying  out  in  the 
hedge  just  at  this  particular  moment  of  all  the  year? 
A\  ho  can  say  ?  Guinea-fowls  always  are — so  are  all 
other  things,  animals,  and  persons,  requisite  for  getting 
one  into  scrapes,  always  ready  when  any  mischief  can 
come  of  them.  At  any  rate,  just  under  East's  nose 
popped  out  the  old  guinea-hen,  scuttling  along  and 
shrieking  "  Come  back,  come  back,"  at  the  top  of  her 
voice.  Either  of  the  other  three  might  perhaps  have 


326  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

withstood  the  temptation,  but  East  first  lets  drive  the 
stone  he  has  in  his  hand  at  her,  and  then  rushes  to 
turn  her  into  the  hedge  again.  He  succeeds,  and  then 
they  are  all  at  it  for  dear  life,  up  and  down  the  hedge 
in  full  cry,  the  "  Come  back,  come  back,"  getting 
shriller  and  fainter  every  minute. 

Meantime,  the  farmer  and  his  men  steal  over  the 
hurdles  and  creep  down  the  hedge  towards  the  scene 
of  action.  They  are  almost  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
Martin,  who  is  pressing  the  unlucky  chase  hard,  when 
Tom  catches  sight  of  them,  and  sings  out,  "  Louts, 
'ware  louts,  your  side!  Madman,  look  ahead!"  and 
then  catching  hold  of  Arthur,  hurries  him  away  across 
the  field  towards  Rugby  as  hard  as  they  can  tear. 
Had  he  been  by  himself,  he  would  have  stayed  to 
see  it  out  with  the  others,  but  now  his  heart  sinks 
and  all  his  pluck  goes.  The  idea  of  being  led  up 
to  the  Doctor  with  Arthur  for  bagging  fowls,  quite 
unmans  and  takes  half  the  run  out  of  him. 

However,  no  boys  are  more  able  to  take  care  of 
themselves  than  East  and  Martin ;  they  dodge  the 
pursuers,  slip  through  a  gap,  and  come  pelting  after 
Tom  and  Arthur,  whom  they  catch  up  in  no  time ;  the 
farmer  and  his  men  are  making  good  running  about 
a  field  behind.  Tom  wishes  to  himself  that  they 
had  made  off  in  any  other  direction,  but  now  they 
are  all  in  for  it  together,  and  must  see  it  out.  "  You 
won't  leave  the  young  'un,  will  you  ?"  says  he,  as 
they  haul  poor  little  Arthur,  already  losing  wind 


THE  BIRD-FANCIERS.  327 

from  the  fright,  through  the  next  hedge.  "Not  we," 
is  the  answer  from  both.  The  next  hedge  is  a  stiff 
one ;  the  pursuers  gain  horribly  on  them,  and  they 
only  just  pull  Arthur  through,  with  two  great  rents 
in  his  trousers,  as  the  foremost  shepherd  comes  up  on 
the  other  side.  As  they  start  into  the  next  field,  they 
are  aware  of  two  figures  walking  down  the  footpath  in 
the  middle  of  it,  and  recognise  Holmes  and  Dio-o-s 

7  C  Oo 

taking  a  constitutional.  Those  good-natured  fellows 
immediately  shout  "On."  "Let's  go  to  them  and 
surrender,"  pants  Tom. — Agreed. — And  in  another 
minute  the  four  boys,  to  the  great  astonishment  of 
those  worthies,  rush  breathless  up  to  Holmes  and 
Diggs,  who  pull  up  to  see  what  is  the  matter;  and 
then  the  whole  is  explained  by  the  appearance  of  the 
farmer  and  his  men,  who  unite  their  forces  and  bear 
down  on  the  knot  of  boys. 

There  is  no  time  to  explain,  and  Tom's  heart  beats 
frightfully  quick  as  he  ponders,"  Will  they  stand  by  us  ?" 

The  farmer  makes  a  rush  at  East  and  collars  him  ; 
and  that  young  gentleman,  with  unusual  discretion, 
instead  of  kicking  his  shins,  looks  appealingly  at 
Holmes,  and  stands  still. 

"Hullo  there,  not  so  fast,"  says  Holmes,  who  is 
bound  to  stand  up  for  them  till  they  are  proved  in 
the  wrong.  "Now  what's  all  this  about?" 

"  I've  got  the  young  varmint  at  last,  have  I," 
pants  the  farmer ;  "  why  they've  been  a  skulking 
about  my  yard  and  stealing  my  fowls,  that's  where 


328  TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

'tis;  and  if  I  doan't  have  they  flogged  for  it,  every 
one  on  'em,  my  name  ain't  Thompson." 

Holmes  looks  grave,  and  Diggs's  face  falls.  They 
are  quite  ready  to  fight,  no  boys  in  the  school  more 
so ;  but  they  are  praepostors,  and  understand  their 
office,  and  can't  uphold  unrighteous  causes. 

"I  haven't  been  near  his  old  barn  this  half,"  cries 
East.  "  Nor  I,"  "  Nor  I,"  chime  in  Tom  and  Martin. 

"Now,  Willum,  didn't  you  see  'm  there  last  week  ?" 

"  Ees,  I  seen  'em  sure  enough,"  says  Willum,  grasp- 
ing a  prong  he  carried,  and  preparing  for  action. 

The  boys  deny  stoutly,  and  Willum  is  driven  to 
admit  that,  "  if  it  worn't  they,  'twas  chaps  as  like 
'em  as  two  peas'n;"  and  "leastways  he'll  swear  he 
see'd  them  two  in  the  yard  last  Martinmas,"  indi- 
cating East  and  Tom. 

Holmes  had  time  to  meditate.  "Now,  sir,"  says 
he  to  Willum,  "you  see  you  can't  remember  what 
you  have  seen,  and  I  believe  the  boys." 

"I  doan't  care,"  blusters  the  farmer;  "they  was 
arter  my  fowls  to-day,  that's  enough  for  I.  Willum, 
you  catch  hold  o'  t'other  chap.  They've  been  a  sneak- 
ing about  this  two  hours,  I  tells  'ee,"  shouted  he,  as 
Holmes  stands  between  Martin  and  Willum,  "and 
have  druv  a  matter  of  a  dozen  young  pullets  pretty 
nigh  to  death." 

"  Oh,  there's  a  whacker  !"  cried  East ;  "  we  haven't 
been  within  a  hundred  yards  of  his  barn  ;  we  haven't 
been  up  here  above  ten  minutes,  and  we've  seen  noth- 


THE  BIRD-FANCIERS.  329 

ing  but  a  tough  old  guinea-hen,  who  ran  like  a  grey- 
hound." 

"  Indeed,  that's  all  true,  Holmes,  upon  my  honor," 
added  Tom  ;  "  we  weren't  after  his  fowls ;  the  guinea- 
hen  ran  out  of  the  hedge  under  our  feet,  and  we've 
seen  nothing  else." 

"  Drat  their  talk.  Thee  catch  hold  o'  t'other,  Wil- 
lum,  and  corne  along  wi  'un." 

"  Farmer  Thompson,"  said  Holmes,  warning  off  Wil- 
lum  and  the  prong  with  his  stick,  while  Diggs  faced 
the  other  shepherd,  cracking  his  fingers  like  pistol 
shots,  "now  listen  to  reason — the  boys  haven't  been 
after  your  fowls,  that's  plain." 

"  Tells  'ee  I  see'd  'em.  Who  be  you,  I  should 
like  to  know  ?" 

"Never  you  mind,  Farmer,"  answered  Holmes. 
"And  now  I'll  just  tell  you  what  it  is — you  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  for  leaving  all  that  poultry 
about,  with  no  one  to  watch  it,  so  near  the  School. 
You  deserve  to  have  it  all  stolen.  So  if  you  choose 
to  come  up  to  the  Doctor  with  them,  I  shall  go  with 
you,  and  tell  him  what  I  think  of  it." 

The  farmer  began  to  take  Holmes  for  a  master ; 
besides,  he  wanted  to  get  back  to  his  flock.  Cor- 
poral punishment  was  out  of  the  question,  the  odds 
were  too  great ;  so  he  began  to  hint  at  paying  for 
the  damage.  Arthur  jumped  at  this,  offering  to  pay 
anything,  and  the  farmer  immediately  valued  the 
guinea-hen  at  half-a-sovereign. 


330  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Half-a-sovereign !"  cried  East,  now  released  from 
the  farmer's  grip ;  "  well,  that  is  a  good  one !  the 
lien  ain't  hurt  a  bit,  and  she's  seven  years  old,  I 
know,  and  as  tough  as  whipcord;  she  couldn't  lay 
another  egg  to  save  her  life." 

It  was  at  last  settled  that  they  should  pay  the 
farmer  two  shillings,  and  his  man  one  shilling,  and 
so  the  matter  ended,  to  the  unspeakable  relief  of 
Tom,  who  hadn't  been  able  to  say  a  word,  being  sick 
at  heart  at  the  idea  of  what  the  Doctor  would  think 
of  him :  and  now  the  whole  party  of  boys  marched 
off'  down  the  footpath  towards  Rugby.  Holmes,  who 
was  one  of  the  best  boys  in  the  School,  began  to  im- 
prove the  occasion.  "  Now,  you  youngsters,"  said 
he,  as  he  marched  along  in  the  middle  of  them, 
"  mind  this ;  you're  very  well  out  of  this  scrape. 
Don't  you  go  near  Thompson's  barn  again ;  do  you 
hear?" 

Profuse  promises  from  all,  especially  East. 

"  Mind,  I  don't  ask  questions,"  went  on  Mentor, 
"  but  I  rather  think  some  of  you  have  been  there  be- 
fore this  after  his  chickens.  Now,  knocking  over  other 
people's  chickens,  and  running  off  with  them,  is  steal- 
ing. It's  a  nasty  word,  but  that's  the  plain  English 
of  it.  If  the  chickens  were  dead  and  lying  in  a  shop, 
you  wouldn't  take  them,  I  know  that,  any  more  than 
you  would  apples  out  of  Griffith's  basket ;  but  there's 
no  real  difference  between  chickens  running  about  and 
apples  on  a  tree,  and  the  same  articles  in  a  shop.  I 


THE   BIRD-FANCIERS.  331 

wish  our  morals  were  sounder  in  such  matters.  There's 
nothing  so  mischievous  as  these  school  distinctions, 
which  jumhle  up  right  and  wrong,  and  justify  things 
in  us  for  which  poor  boys  would  be  sent  to  prison." 
And  good  old  Holmes  delivered  his  soul  on  the 
walk  home  of  many  wise  sayings,  and,  as  the  song 

says — 

"  Gee'd  'era  a  sight  of  good  advice  " — 

which  same  sermon  sank  into  them  all,  more  or  less, 
and  very  penitent  they  were  for  several  hours.  But 
truth  compels  me  to  admit  that  East  at  any  rate  forgot 
it  all  in  a  week,  but  remembered  the  insult  which  had 
been  put  upon  him  by  Farmer  Thompson,  and  with  the 
Tadpole  and  other  harebrained  youngsters,  committed 
a  raid  on  the  barn  soon  afterwards,  in  which  they  were 
caught  by  the  shepherds  and  severely  handled,  besides 
having  to  pay  eight  shillings,  all  the  money  they  had 
in  the  world,  to  escape  being  taken  up  to  the  Doctor. 
Martin  became  a  constant  inmate  in  the  joint  study 
from  this  time,  and  Arthur  took  to  him  so  kindly,  that 
Tom  couldn't  resist  slight  fits  of  jealousy,  which,  how- 
ever, he  managed  to  keep  to  himself.  The  kestrel's 
eggs  had  not  been  broken,  strange  to  say,  and  formed 
the  nucleus  of  Arthur's  collection,  at  which  Martin 
worked  heart  and  soul ;  and  introduced  Arthur  to 
Hewlett  the  bird-fancier,  and  instructed  him  in  the 
rudiments  of  the  art  of  stuffing.  In  token  of  his  grat- 
itude, Arthur  allowed  Martin  to  tattoo  a  small  anchor 
on  one  of  his  wrists,  which  decoration,  however,  he 


332  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

carefully  concealed  from  Tom.  Before  the  end  of  the 
half  year  he  had  trained  into  a  bold  climber  and  good 
runner,  and,  as  Martin  had  foretold,  knew  twice  as 
much  about  trees,  birds,  flowers,  and  many  other 
things,  as  our  good-hearted  and  facetious  young  friend 
Harry  East. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  FIGHT. 

"  Surgebat  Macnevisius 
Et  mox  jactabat  ultro, 
Pugnabo  tua  gratia 
Feroci  hoc  Mactwoltro." — Etonian, 

THERE  is  a  certain  sort  of  fellow — we  who  are  used 
to  studying  boys  all  know  him  well  enough — of  whom 
you  can  predicate  with  almost  positive  certainty,  after 
he  has  been  a  month  at  school,  that  he  is  sure  to  have 
a  fight,  and  with  almost  equal  certainty  that  he  will 
have  but  one.  Tom  Brown  was  one  of  these ;  and  as 
it  is  our  well-weighed  intention  to  give  a  full,  true,  and 
correct  account  of  Tom's  only  single  combat  with  a 
school-fellow  in  the  manner  of  our  old  friend  Bell's 
Life,  let  those  young  persons  whose  stomachs  are  not 
strong,  or  who  think  a  good  set-to  with  the  weapons 
which  God  has  given  us  all,  an  uncivilized,  unchris- 
tian, or  ungentlemanly  affair,  just  skip  this  chapter  at 
once,  for  it  won't  be  to  their  taste. 

It  was  not  at  all  usual  in  those  days  for  two  School- 
house  boys  to  have  a  fight.  Of  course  there  were  ex- 
ceptions, when  some  cross-grained  hard-headed  fellow 
came  up  who  would  never  be  happy  unless  he  was 

333 


334  TOM  BROWN'S  SCPIOOL  DAYS. 

quarrelling  with  bis  nearest  neighbors,  or  when  there 
was  some  class-dispute,  between  the  fifth-form  and  the 
fags  for  instance,  which  required  blood-letting ;  and  a 
champion  was  picked  out  on  each  side  tacitly,  who 
settled  the  matter  by  a  good  hearty  mill.  But  for  the 
most  part  the  constant  use  of  those  surest  keepers  of 
the  peace,  the  boxing-gloves,  kept  the  School-house 
boys  from  fighting  one  another.  Two  or  three  nights 
in  every  week  the  gloves  were  brought  out,  either  in 
the  hall  or  fifth-form  room  ;  and  every  boy  who  was 
ever  likely  to  fight  at  all  knew  all  his  neighbors' 
prowess  perfectly  well,  and  could  tell  to  a  nicety  what 
chance  he  would  have  in  a  stand-up  fight  with  any 
other  boy  in  the  house.  But  of  course  no  such  experi- 
ence could  be  gotten  as  regarded  boys  in  other  houses  ; 
and  as  most  of  the  other  houses  were  more  or  less  jeal- 
ous of  the  School-house,  collisions  were  frequent. 

After  all,  what  Avould  life  be  without  fighting,  I 
should  like  to  know  ?  From  the  cradle  to  the  grave, 
fighting,  rightly  understood,  is  the  business,  the  real, 
highest,  honestest  business  of  every  son  of  man. 

Every  one  who  is  worth  his  salt  has  his  enemies, 
who  must  be  beaten,  be  they  evil  thoughts  and  habits 
in  himself,  or  spiritual  wickedness  in  high  places,  or 
Russians,  or  Border-ruffians,  or  Bill,  Tom,  or  Harry, 
who  will  not  let  him  live  his  life  in  quiet  till  he  has 
thrashed  them. 

It  is  no  good  for  Quakers,  or  any  other  body  of  men 
to  uplift  their  voices  against  fighting.  Human  nature 


THE  FIGHT.  335 

is  too  strong  for  them,  and  they  don't  follow  their  own 
precepts.  Every  soul  of  them  is  doing  his  own  piece 
of  fighting,  somehow  and  somewhere.  The  world  might 
be  a  better  world  without  fighting,  for  anything  I 
know,  but  it  wouldn't  be  our  world ;  and  therefore  I 
am  dead  against  crying  peace  when  there  is  no  peace, 
and  isn't  meant  to  be.  I  am  as  sorry  as  any  man  to 
see  folk  fighting  the  wrong  people  and  wrong  things, 
but  I'd  a  deal  sooner  see  them  doing  that,  than  that 
they  should  have  no  fight  in  them.  So  having  re- 
corded, and  being  about  to  record,  my  hero's  fights  of 
all  sorts,  with  all  sorts  of  enemies,  I  shall  now  proceed 
to  give  an  account  of  his  passage-at-arms  with  the  only 
one  of  his  school-fellows  whom  he  ever  had  to  encounter 
in  this  manner. 

It  was  drawing  towards  the  close  of  Arthur's  first 
half-year,  and  May  evenings  were  lengthening  out. 
Locking-up  was  not  till  eight  o'clock,  and  everybody 
was  beginning  to  talk  about  what  he  would  do  in  the 
holidays.  The  shell,  in  which  form  all  our  dramatis 
personse  now  are,  were  reading  amongst  other  things 
the  last  book  of  Homer's  "Iliad,"  and  had  worked 
through  it  as  far  as  the  speeches  of  the  women  over 
Hector's  body.  It  is  a  whole  school-day,  and  four  or 
five  of  the  School-house  boys  (amongst  whom  are  Ar- 
thur, Tom,  and  East)  are  preparing  third  lesson 
together.  They  have  finished  the  regulation  forty 
lines,  and  are  for  the  most  part  getting  very  tired, 
notwithstanding  the  exquisite  pathos  of  Helen's  lam- 


336  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

entation.  And  now  several  long  four-syllabled  words 
come  together,  and  the  boy  with  the  dictionary  strikes 
work. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  look  out  any  more  words,"  says 
he  ;  "  we've  done  the  quantity.  Ten  to  one  we  shan't 
get  so  far.  Let's  go  out  into  the  close." 

"  Come  along,  boys,"  cries  East,  always  ready  to 
leave  the  grind,  as  he  called  it ;  "  our  old  coach  is  laid 
up,  you  know,  and  we  shall  have  one  of  the  new  mas- 
ters, who's  sure  to  go  slow  and  let  us  down  easy." 

So  an  adjournment  to  the  close  was  carried  nem. 
eon.,  little  Arthur  not  daring  to  uplift  his  voice ;  but, 
being  deeply  interested  in  what  they  were  reading, 
stayed  quietly  behind,  and  learnt  on  for  his  own 
pleasure. 

As  East  had  said,  the  regular  master  of  the  form 
was  unwell,  and  they  were  to  be  heard  by  one  of  the 
new  masters,  quite  a  young  man,  who  had  only  just 
left  the  university.  Certainly  it  would  be  hard  lines, 
if,  by  dawdling  as  much  as  possible  in  coming  in  and 
taking  their  places,  entering  into  long-winded  explana- 
tions of  what  was  the  usual  course  of  the  regular  mas- 
ter of  the  form,  and  others  of  the  stock  contrivances 
of  boys  for  wasting  time  in  school,  they  could  not  spin 
out  the  lesson  so  that  he  should  not  work  them  through 
more  than  the  forty  lines ;  as  to  which  quantity  there 
was  a  perpetual  fight  going  on  between  the  master  and 
his  form,  the  latter  insisting,  and  enforcing  by  passive 
resistance,  that  it  was  the  prescribed  quantity  of 


THE  FIGHT.  337 

Homer  for  a  shell  lesson,  the  former  that  there  was  no 
fixed  quantity,  but  that  they  must  always  be  ready  to 
go  on  to  fifty  or  sixty  lines  if  there  were  time  within 
the  hour.  However,  notwithstanding  all  their  efforts, 
the  new  master  got  on  horribly  quick  ;  he  seemed  to 
have  the  bad  taste  to  be  really  interested  in  the  lesson, 
and  to  be  trying  to  work  them  up  into  something  like 
appreciation  of  it,  giving  them  good  spirited  English 
words,  instead  of  the  wretched  bald  stuff  into  which 
they  rendered  poor  old  Homer  ;  and  construing  over 
each  piece  himself  to  them,  after  each  boy,  to  show 
them  how  it  should  be  done. 

Now  the  clock  strikes  the  three-quarters ;  there  is 
only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more ;  but  the  forty  lines 
are  all  but  done.  So  the  boys,  one  after  another,  who 
are  called  up,  stick  more  and  more,  and  make  balder 
and  even  more  bald  work  of  it.  The  poor  young  mas- 
ter is  pretty  near  beat  by  this  time,  and  feels  ready  to 
knock  his  head  against  the  wall,  or  his  fingers  against 
somebody  else's  head.  So  he  gives  up  altogether  the 
lower  and  middle  parts  of  the  form,  and  looks  round 
in  despair  at  the  boys  on  the  top  bench,  to  see  if  there 
is  one  out  of  whom  he  can  strike  a  spark  or  two,  and 
who  will  be  too  chivalrous  to  murder  the  most  beauti- 
ful utterances  of  the  most  beautiful  woman  of  the  old 
world.  His  eye  rests  on  Arthur,  and  he  calls  him  up 
to  finish  construing  Helen's  speech.  Whereupon  all 
the  other  boys  draw  long  breaths,  and  begin  to  stare 
about  and  take  it  easy.  They  are  all  safe ;  Arthur  is 

22 


338  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  head  of  the  form,  and  sure  to  be  able  to  construe, 
and  that  will  tide  on  safely  till  the  hour  strikes. 

Arthur  proceeds  to  read  out  the  passage  in  Greek 
before  construing  it,  as  the  custom  is.  Tom,  Avho  isn't 
paying  much  attention,  is  suddenly  caught  by  the  fal- 
ter in  his  voice  as  he  reads  the  two  lines — 


a/.Aa  aii  r6v  y  eTreeaai  Trapanpa/Ltevof 
2$  r"  dyavotypoaivi)  nal  aolg  ayavois  i 


He  looks  up  at  Arthur.  "  Why,  bless  us,"  thinks  he, 
"what  can  be  the  matter  with  the  young  'un  ?  He's 
never  going  to  get  floored.  He's  sure  to  have  learnt 
to  the  end."  Next  moment  he  is  reassured  by  the 
spirited  tone  in  which  Arthur  begins  construing,  and 
betakes  himself  to  drawing  dogs'  heads  in  his  note- 
book, while  the  master,  evidently  enjoying  the  change, 
turns  his  back  on  the  middle  bench  and  stands  before 
Arthur,  beating  a  sort  of  time  with  his  hand  and 
foot,  and  saying,  "  Yes,  yes,"  "  very  well,"  as  Arthur 
goes  on. 

But  as  he  nears  the  fatal  two  lines,  Tom  catches  that 
falter  and  again  looks  up.  He  sees  that  there  is  some- 
thing the  matter  —  Arthur  can  hardly  get  on  at  all. 
What  can  it  be? 

Suddenly  at  this  point  Arthur  breaks  down  alto- 
gether, and  fairly  bursts  out  crying,  and  dashes  the 
cuff  of  his  jacket  across  his  eyes,  blushing  up  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair,  and  feeling  as  if  he  should  like  to  go 
down  suddenly  through  the  floor.  The  whole  form  are 


THE  FIGHT.  339 

taken  aback  ;  most  of  them  stare  stupidly  at  him, 
while  those  who  are  gifted  with  presence  of  mind  find 
their  places  and  look  steadily  at  their  books,  in  hopes 
of  not  catching  the  master's  eye  and  getting  called  up 
in  Arthur's  place. 

The  master  looks  puzzled  for  a  moment,  and  then 
seeing,  as  the  fact  is,  that  the  boy  is  really  affected  to 
tears  by  the  most  touching  thing  in  Homer,  perhaps  in 
all  profane  poetry  put  together,  steps  up  to  him  and 
lays  his  hand  kindly  on  his  shoulder,  saying,  "  Never 
mind,  my  little  man,  you've  construed  very  well.  Stop 
a  minute,  there's  no  hurry." 

Now,  as  luck  would  have  it,  there  sat  next  above 
Tom  that  day,  in  the  middle  bench  of  the  form,  a  big 
boy,  by  name  Williams,  generally  supposed  to  be  the 
cock  of  the  shell,  therefore  of  all  the  school  below  the 
fifths.  The  small  boys,  who  are  great  speculators  on 
the  prowess  of  their  elders,  used  to  hold  forth  to  one 
another  about  Williams's  great  strength,  and  to  discuss 
whether  East  or  Brown  would  take  a  licking  from  him. 
He  was  called  Slogger  Williams,  from  the  force  with 
which  it  was  supposed  he  could  hit.  In  the  main,  he 
was  a  rough,  good-natured  fellow  enough,  but  very 
much  alive  to  his  own  dignity.  Pie  reckoned  himself 
the  king  of  the  form,  and  kept  up  his  position  with  a 
strong  hand,  especially  in  the  matter  of  forcing  boys 
not  to  construe  more  than  the  legitimate  forty  lines. 
He  had  already  grunted  and  grumbled  to  himself, 
when  Arthur  went  on  reading  beyond  the  forty  lines. 


340  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

But  now  that  he  had  broken  down  just  in  the  middle 
of  all  the  long  words,  the  Slogger's  wrath  was  fairly 
roused. 

"  Sneaking  little  brute,"  muttered  he,  regardless  of 
prudence,  "clapping  on  the  waterworks  just  in  the 
hardest  place ;  see  if  I  don't  punch  his  head  after 
fourth  lesson." 

"Whose?"  said  Tom,  to  whom  the  remark  seemed 
to  be  addressed. 

"  Why,  that  little  sneak  Arthur's,"  replied  Williams. 

"No,  you  shan't,"  said  Tom. 

"  Hullo  !"  exclaimed  Williams,  looking  at  Tom  with 
great  surprise  for  a  moment,  and  then  giving  him  a 
sudden  dig  in  the  ribs  with  his  elbow,  which  sent 
Tom's  books  flying  on  the  floor,  and  called  the  atten- 
tion of  the  master,  who  turned  suddenly  round,  and 
seeing  the  state  of  things,  said — 

"  Williams,  go  down  three  places,  and  then  go  on." 

The  Slogger  found  his  legs  very  slowly,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  go  below  Tom  and  two  other  boys  with  gi'eat 
disgust,  and  then,  turning  round  and  facing  the  mas- 
ter, said,  "  I  haven't  learnt  any  more,  sir ;  our  lesson 
is  only  forty  lines." 

"Is  that  so?"  said  the  master,  appealing  generally 
to  the  top  bench.  No  answer. 

"  Who  is  the  head  boy  of  the  form  ?"  said  he,  wax- 
ing wroth. 

"Arthur,  sir,"  answered  three  or  four  boys,  indica- 
ting our  friend. 


THE  FIGHT.  341 

"  Oh,  your  name's  Arthur.  Well  now,  what  is  the 
length  of  your  regular  lesson?" 

Arthur  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  We  call 
it  only  forty  lines,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  you  call  it  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,  Mr.  Graham  says  we  ain't  to  stop  there, 
when  there's  time  to  construe  more." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  master.  "  Williams,  go 
down  three  more  places,  and '  write  me  out  the  lesson 
in  Greek  and  English.  And  now,  Arthur,  finish  con- 
struing." 

"  Oh  !  would  I  be  in  Arthur's  shoes  after  fourth 
lesson?"  said  the  little  boys  to  one  another;  but 
Arthur  finished  Helen's  speech  without  any  further 
catastrophe,  and  the  clock  struck  four,  which  ended 
third  lesson. 

Another  hour  was  occupied  in  preparing  and  saying 
fourth  lesson,  during  which  Williams  was  bottling  up 
his  wrath  ;  and  when  five  struck,  and  the  lessons 
for  the  day  were  over,  he  prepared  to  take  summary 
vengeance  on  the  innocent  cause  of  his  misfortune. 

Tom  was  detained  in  school  a  few  minutes  after  the 
rest,  and  on  coming  out  into  the  quadrangle,  the  first 
thing  he  saw  was  a  small  ring  of  boys,  applauding 
Williams,  who  was  holding  Arthur  by  the  collar. 

"  There,  you  young  sneak,"  said  he,  giving  Arthur 
a  cuflf  on  the  head  with  his  other  hand,  "  what  made 
you  say  that  " — 

"Hullo!"   said   Tom,  shouldering  into  the  crowd, 


342  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  you  drop  that,  Williams ;  you  shan't  touch 
him." 

""Who'll  stop  me?"  said  the  Slogger,  raising  his 
hand  again. 

"  I,"  said  Tom  ;  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
struck  the  arm  which  held  Arthur's  arm  so  sharply, 
that  the  Slogger  dropped  it  with  a  start,  and  turned 
the  full  current  of  his  wrath  on  Tom. 

"Will  you  fight?" 

"  Yes,  of  course." 

"  Huzza,  there's  going  to  be  a  fight  between  Slog- 
ger Williams  and  Torn  Brown  !" 

The  news  ran  like  wild-fire  about,  and  many  boys 
who  were  on  their  way  to  tea  at  their  several  houses 
turned  back,  and  sought  the  back  of  the  chapel,  where 
the  fights  come  off. 

"  Just  run  and  tell  East  to  come  and  back  me,"  said 
Tom  to  a  small  School-house  boy,  who  was  off  like  a 
rocket  to  Harrowell's,  just  stopping  for  a  moment  to 
poke  his  head  into  the  School-house  hall,  where  the 
lower  boys  were  already  at  tea,  and  sing  out,  "  Fight ! 
Tom  Brown  and  Slogger  Williams." 

Up  started  half  the  boys  at  once,  leaving  bread, 
eggs,  butter,  sprats,  and  all  the  rest  to  take  care  of 
themselves.  The  greater  part  of  the  remainder  follow 
in  a  minute,  after  swallowing  their  tea,  carrying  their 
food  in  their  hands  to  consume  as  they  go.  Three  or 
four  only  remain,  Avho  steal  the  butter  of  the  more  im- 
petuous, and  make  to  themselves  an  unctuous  feast. 


THE  FIGHT.  343 

In  another  minute  East  and  Martin  tear  through  the 
quadrangle  carrying  a  sponge,  and  arrive  at  the  scene 
of  action  just  as  the  combatants  are  beginning  to 
strip. 

Tom  felt  he  had  got  his  work  cut  out  for  him,  as  he 
stripped  off  his  jacket,  waistcoat,  and  braces.  East  tied 
his  handkerchief  round  his  waist,  and  rolled  up  his 
shirt-sleeves  for  him:  "Now,  old  boy,  don't  you  open 
your  mouth  to  say  a  word,  or  try  to  help  yourself  a  bit, 
we'll  do  all  that ;  you  keep  all  your  breath  and  strength 
for  the  Slogger."  Martin  meanwhile  folded  the  clothes, 
and  put  them  under  the  chapel  rails ;  and  now  Tom 
with  East  to  handle  him  and  Martin  to  give  him  a  knee, 
steps  out  on  the  turf,  and  is  ready  for  all  that  may 
come :  and  here  is  the  Slogger  too,  all  stripped,  and 
thirsting  for  the  fray. 

It  doesn't  look  a  fair  match  at  first  glance  :  Williams 
is  nearly  two  inches  taller,  and  probably  a  long  year 
older  than  his  opponent,  and  he  is  very  strongly  made 
about  the  arms  and  shoulders ;  "  peels  well,"  as  the 
little  knot  of  big  fifth-form  boys,  the  amateurs,  say : 
who  stand  outside  the  ring  of  little  boys,  looking  com- 
placently on,  but  taking  no  active  part  in  the  proceed- 
ings. But  down  below  he  is  not  so  good  by  any  means, 
no  spring  from  the  loins,  and  feebleish,  not  to  say 
shipwrecky,  about  the  knees.  Tom,  on  the  contrary, 
though  not  half  so  strong  in  the  arms,  is  good  all  over, 
straight,  hard,  and  springy  from  neck  to  ankle,  better 
perhaps  in  his  legs  than  anywhere.  Besides,  you  can 


344  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS.     . 

see  by  the  clear  white  of  his  eyes  and  fresh  bright  look 
of  his  skin,  that  he  is  in  tip-top  training,  able  to  do  all 
he  knows  ;  while  the  Slogger  looks  rather  sodden,  as  if 
he  didn't  take  much  exercise  and  ate  too  much  tuck. 
The  time-keeper  is  chosen,  a  large  ring  made,  and 
the  two  stand  up  opposite  one  another  for  a  mo- 
ment, giving  us  time  just  to  make  our  little  obser- 
vations. 

"  If  Tom'll  only  condescend  to  fight  with  his  head 
and  heels,"  as  East  mutters  to  Martin,  "  we  shall  do." 

But  seemingly  he  won't,  for  there  he  goes  in,  mak- 
ing play  with  both  hands.  Hard  all,  is  the  word  ; 
the  two  stand  to  one  another  like  men ;  rally  follows 
rally  in  quick  succession,  each  fighting  as  if  he  thought 
to  finish  the  whole  thing  out  of  hand.  "  Can't  last  at 
this  rate,"  say  the  knowing  ones,  while  the  partisans 
of  each  make  the  air  ring  with  their  shouts  and  coun- 
ter-shouts, of  encouragement,  approval,  and  defiance. 

"  Take  it  easy,  take  it  easy — keep  away,  let  him 
come  after  you,"  implores  East,  as  he  wipes  Tom's 
face  after  the  first  round  with  wet  sponge,  while  he 
sits  back  on  Martin's  knee  supported  by  the  Mad- 
man's long  arms,  which  tremble  a  little  from  excite- 
ment. 

"  Time's  up,"  calls  the  time-keeper. 

"  There  he  goes  again,  hang  it  all !"  growls  East 
as  his  man  is  at  it  again  as  hard  as  ever.  A  very 
severe  round  follows,  in  which  Tom  gets  out  and  out 
the  worst  of  it,  and  is  at  last  hit  clean  off  his  legs, 


THE  FIGHT.  345 

and  deposited  on  the  grass  by  a  right-hander  from 
the  Slogger. 

Loud  shouts  rise  from  the  boys  of  Slogger's  house, 
and  the  School-house  are  silent  and  vicious,  ready  to 
pick  quarrels  anywhere. 

"Two  to  one  in  half-crowns  on  the  big  'un,"  says 
Rattle,  one  of  the  amateurs,  a  tall  fellow,  in  thun- 
der-and-lightning  waistcoat,  and  puffy,  good-natured 
face. 

"Done!"  says  Groove,  another  amateur  of  quieter 
look,  taking  out  his  note-book  to  enter  it — for  our 
friend  Rattle  sometimes  forgets  these  little  things. 

Meantime  East  is  freshening  up  Tom  with  the 
sponges  for  the  next  round,  and  has  set  two  other 
boys  to  rub  his  hands. 

"Tom,  old  boy,"  whispers  he,  "this  may  be  fun  for 
you,  but  it's  death  to  me.  He'll  hit  all  the  fight  out 
of  you  in  another  five  minutes,  and  then  I  shall  go 
and  drown  myself  in  the  island  ditch.  Feint  him — 
use  your  legs ! — draw  him  about !  he'll  use  his  wind 
then  in  no  time,  and  you  can  go  into  him.  Hit  at 
his  body  too,  we'll  take  care  of  his  frontispiece  by 
and  by." 

Tom  felt  the  wisdom  of  the  counsel,  and  saw  already 
that  he  couldn't  go  in  and  finish  the  Slogger  off  at 
mere  hammer  and  tongs,  so  changed  his  tactics  com- 
pletely in  the  third  round.  He  now  fights  cautious, 
getting  away  from  and  parrying  the  Slogger's  lunging 
instead  of  trying  to  counter,  and  leading  his  enemy  a 


346  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

dance  all  round  the  ring  after  him.  "  He's  funking ; 
go  in,  Williams,"  "  Catch  him  up,"  "  Finish  him  off," 
scream  the  small  boys  of  the  Slogger  party. 

"Just  what  we  want,"  thinks  East,  chuckling  to 
himself,  as  he  sees  Williams,  excited  by  these  shouts, 
and  thinking  the  game  in  his  own  hands,  blowing 
himself  in  his  exertions  to  get  to  close  quarters  again, 
•while  Tom  is  keeping  away  with  perfect  ease. 

They  quarter  over  the  ground  again  and  again,  Tom 
always  on  the  defensive. 

The  Slogger  pulls  up  at  last  for  a  moment,  fairly 
blown. 

"Now  then,  Tom,"  sings  out  East,  dancing  with 
delight.  Tom  goes  in  in  a  twinkling,  and  hits  two 
heavy  blows,  and  gets  away  again  before  the  Slogger 
can  catch  his  wind ;  which  when  he  does  he  rushes 
with  blind  fury  at  Tom,  and  being  skilfully  parried 
and  avoided,  over-reaches  himself  and  falls  on  his 
face,  amidst  terrific  cheers  from  the  School-house 
boys. 

"Double  your  two  to  one?"  says  Groove  to  Rattle, 
note-book  in  hand. 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  says  that  hero,  looking  uncomfort- 
ably at  Williams,  who  is  puffing  away  on  his  second's 
knee,  winded  enough,  but  little  the  worse  in  any 
other  way. 

After  another  round  the  Slogger  too  seems  to  see 
that  he  can't  go  in  and  win  right  off,  and  has  met  his 
match  or  thereabouts.  So  he  too  begins  to  use  his 


THE  FIGHT.  347 

head,  and  tries  to  make  Tom  lose  patience  and  come 
in  before  his  time.  And  so  the  fight  sways  on,  now 
one,  and  now  the  other,  getting  a  trifling  pull. 

Tom's  face  begins  to  look  very  one-sided — there 
are  little  queer  bumps  on  his  forehead,  and  his  mouth 
is  bleeding ;  but  East  keeps  the  wet  sponge  going  so 
scientifically,  that  he  comes  up  looking  as  fresh  and 
bright  as  ever.  Williams  is  only  slightly  marked  in 
the  face,  but  by  the  nervous  movement  of  his  elbows 
you  can  see  that  Tom's  body  blows  are  telling.  In 
fact,  half  the  vice  of  the  Slogger's  hitting  is  neutral- 
ized, for  he  daren't  lunge  out  freely  for  fear  of  expos- 
ing his  sides.  It  is  too  interesting  by  this  time  for 
much  shouting,  and  the  whole  ring  is  very  quiet. 

"All  right,  Tommy,"  whispers  East;  "hold  on's 
the  horse  that's  to  win.  We've  got  the  last.  Keep 
your  head,  old  boy." 

But  where  is  Arthur  all  this  time  ?  Words  cannot 
paint  the  poor  little  fellow's  distress.  He  couldn't 
muster  courage  to  come  up  to  the  ring,  but  wandered 
up  and  down  from  the  great  fives'  court  to  the  corner 
of  the  chapel  rails.  Now  trying  to  make  up  his  mind 
to  throw  himself  between  them,  and  try  to  stop  them  ; 
then  thinking  of  running  in  and  telling  his  friend 
Mary,  who  he  knew  would  instantly  report  to  the 
Doctor.  The  stones  he  had  heard  of  men  being 
killed  in  prize-fights  rose  up  horribly  before  him. 

Once  only,  when  the  shouts  of  "  Well  done,  Brown  !" 
"  Huzza  for  the  School-house !"  rose  higher  than  ever, 


348  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

he  ventured  up  to  the  ring,  thinking  the  victory  was 
won.  Catching  sight  of  Tom's  face  in  the  state  I 
have  described,  all  fear  of  consequences  vanishing  out 
of  his  mind,  he  rushed  straight  off  to  the  matron's 
room,  beseeching  her  to  get  the  fight  stopped,  or  he 
should  die. 

But  it's  time  for  us  to  get  back  to  the  close.  What 
is  this  fierce  tumult  and  confusion  ?  The  ring  is  broken, 
and  high  and  angry  words  are  being  bandied  about ; 
"It's  all  fair," — "It  isn't, — "No  hugging;"  the 
fight  is  stopped.  The  combatants,  however,  sit  there 
quietly,  tended  by  their  seconds,  while  their  adherents 
wrangle  in  the  middle.  East  can't  help  shouting  chal- 
lenges to  two  or  three  of  the  other  side,  though  he 
never  leaves  Tom  for  a  moment,  and  plies  the  sponges 
as  fast  as  ever. 

The  fact  is,  that  at  the  end  of  the  last  round,  Tom 
seeing  a  good  opening,  had  closed  with  his  opponent, 
and  after  a  moment's  struggle  had  thrown  him  heavily, 
by  the  help  of  the  fall  he  had  learnt  from  his  village 
rival  in  the  vale  of  White  Horse.  Williams  hadn't  the 
ghost  of  a  chance  with  Tom  at  wrestling  ;  and  the  con- 
viction broke  at  once  on  the  Slogger  faction,  that  if 
this  were  allowed  their  man  must  be  licked.  There  was 
a  strong  feeling  in  the  school  against  catching  hold  and 
throwing,  though  it  was  generally  ruled  all  fair  within 
certain  limits ;  so  the  ring  was  broken  and  the  fight 
stopped. 

The  School-house  are  over-ruled — the  fight  is  on 


THE  FIGHT.  349 

again,  but  there  is  to  be  no  throwing ;  and  East  in 
high  wrath  threatens  to  take  his  man  away  after  next 
round  (which  he  don't  mean  to  do,  by  the  way),  when 
suddenly  young  Brooke  comes  through  the  small  gate 
at  the  end  of  the  chapel.  The  School-house  faction 
rush  to  him.  "  Oh,  hurra !  now  we  shall  get  fair 
play." 

"  Please,  Brooke,  come  up,  they  won't  let  Tom 
Brown  throw  him." 

"Throw  whom?"  says  Brooke,  coming  up  to  the 
ring,  "  Oh  !  Williams,  I  see.  Nonsense  !  of  course 
he  may  throw  him  if  he  catches  him  fairly  above  the 
waist." 

Now,  young  Brooke,  you're  in  the  sixth,  you  know, 
and  you  ought  to  stop  all  fights.  He  looks  hard  at 
both  boys.  "  Anything  wrong  ?"  says  he  to  East, 
nodding  at  Tom. 

"Not  a  bit." 

"  Not  beat  at  all  ?" 

"  Bless  you,  no  !  heaps  of  fight  in  him.  Ain't  there, 
Tom?" 

Tom  looks  at  Brooke  and  grins. 

"  How's  he?"  nodding  to  Williams. 

"  So,  so ;  rather  done,  I  think,  since  his  last  fall. 
He  won't  stand  above  two  more." 

"  Time's  up !"  the  boys  rise  again  and  face  one 
another.  Brooke  can't  find  it  in  his  heart  to  stop 
them  just  yet,  so  the  round  goes  on,  the  Slogger  wait- 
ing for  Tom,  and  reserving  all  his  strength  to  hit  him 


350  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

out  should  he  come  in  for  a  wrestling  dodge  again,  for 
he  feels  that  that  must  he  stopped,  or  his  sponge  will 
soon  go  up  in  the  air. 

And  now  another  new  comer  appears  on  the  field,  to 
wit,  the  under-porter,  with  his  long  brush  and  great 
wooden  receptacle  for  dust  under  his  arm  He  has 
been  sweeping  out  the  schools. 

"You'd  better  stop,  gentlemen,"  he  says:  "the 
Doctor  knows  that  Brown's  fighting — he'll  be  out  in 
a  minute." 

"  You  go  to  Bath,  Bill,"  is  all  that  that  excellent 
servitor  gets  by  his  advice.  And  being  a  man  of  his 
hands,  and  a  staunch  upholder  of  the  School-house, 
can't  help  stopping  to  look  on  for  a  bit,  and  see  Tom 
Brown,  their  pet  craftsman,  fight  a  round. 

It  is  grim  earnest  now,  and  no  mistake.  Both  boys 
feel  this,  and  summon  every  power  of  head,  hand,  and 
eye,  to  their  aid.  A  piece  of  luck  on  either  side,  a 
foot  slipping,  a  blow  getting  well  home,  or  another 
fall,  may  decide  it.  Tom  works  slowly  round  for  an 
opening :  he  has  all  the  legs,  and  can  choose  his  own 
time :  the  Slogger  waits  for  the  attack,  and  hopes  to 
finish  it  by  some  heavy  right-handed  blow.  As  they 
quarter  slowly  over  the  ground,  the  evening  sun  comes 
out  from  behind  a  cloud  and  falls  full  on  William's 
face.  Tom  darts  in  ;  the  heavy  right-hand  is  delivered, 
but  only  grazes  his  head.  A  short  rally  at  close  quar- 
ters, and  they  close ;  in  another  moment  the  Slogger 
is  thrown  again  heavily  for  the  third  time. 


DOOR  OF  TURRET  or  DR.  ARNOLD'S  HOUSE,  RUGBY 


THE  FIGHT.  351 

"  I'll  give  you  three  to  two  on  the  little  one  in  half- 
crowns,"  said  Groove  to  Rattle. 

"No,  thank'ee,"  answers  the  other,  diving  his  hands 
further  into  his  coat-tails. 

Just  at  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  the  door  of  the 
turret  which  leads  to  the  Doctor's  library  suddenly 
opens,  and  he  steps  into  the  close,  and  makes  straight 
for  the  ring,  in  which  Brown  and  Slogger  are  both 
seated  ou  their  seconds'  knees  for  the  last  time. 

"  The  Doctor  !  the  Doctor  !"  shouts  some  small  boy 
who  catches  sight  of  him,  and  the  ring  melts  away  in 
a  few  seconds,  the  small  boys  tearing  off,  Tom  collar- 
ing his  jacket  and  waistcoat,  and  slipping  through  the 
little  gate  by  the  chapel,  and  round  the  corner  at  Ilar- 
rowell's  with  his  backers,  as  lively  as  need  be;  Wil- 
liams and  his  backers  making  off  not  quite  so  fast 
across  the  close ;  Groove,  Rattle,  and  the  other  bigger 
fellows  trying  to  combine  dignity  and  prudence  in  a 
comical  manner,  and  walking  off  fast  enough,  they 
hope,  not  to  be  recognized,  and  not  fast  enough  to 
look  like  running  away. 

Young  Brooke  alone  remains  on  the  ground  by  the 
time  the  Doctor  gets  there,  and  touches  his  hat,  not 
without  a  slight  inward  qualm. 

"  Hah  !  Brooke.  I  am  surprised  to  see  you  here. 
Don't  you  know  that  I  expect  the  sixth  to  stop 
fighting  ?" 

Brooke  felt  much  more  uncomfortable  than  he  had 
expected,  but  he  was  rather  a  favorite  with  the  Doctor 


352  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

for  his  openness  and  plainness  of  speech  ;  so  blurted 
out,  as  he  Avalked  by  the  Doctor's  side,  who  had 
already  turned  back — 

"  Yes,  sir,  generally,  But  I  thought  you  wished  us 
to  exercise  a  discretion  in  the  matter  too — not  to  inter- 
fere too  soon." 

"  But  they  have  been  fighting  this  half-hour  and 
more,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  neither  was  hurt.  And  they're  the 
sort  of  boys  who'll  be  all  the  better  friends  how,  which 
they  wouldn't  have  been  if  they  had  been  stopped  any 
earlier — before  it  was  equal." 

"  Who  was  fighting  with  Brown?"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Williams,  sir,  of  Thompson's.  He  is  bigger  than 
Brown,  and  had  the  best  of  it  at  first,  but  not  when 
you  came  up,  sir.  There's  a  good  deal  of  jealousy  be- 
tween our  house  and  Thompson's,  and  there  would 
have  been  more  fights  if  this  hadn't  been  let  go  on,  or 
if  either  of  them  had  had  much  the  worst  of  it." 

"  Well  but,  Brooke,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  doesn't  this 
look  a  little  as  if  you  exercised  your  discretion  by  only 
stopping  a  fight  when  the  School-house  boy  is  getting 
the  worst  of  it?" 

Brooke,  it  must  be  confessed,  felt  rather  gravelled. 

"  Remember,"  added  the  Doctor,  as  he  stopped  at 
the  turret-door,  "  this  fight  is  not  to  go  on — you'll  see 
to  that.  And  I  expect  you  to  stop  all  fights  in  future 
at  once." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  young  Brooke,  touching  his 


THE  FIGHT.  353 

hat,  and  not  sorry  to  see  the  turret-door  close  behind 
the  Doctor's  back. 

Meantime  Tom  and  the  staunchest  of  his  adherents 
Lad  reached  Harrowell's,  and  Sally  was  bustling 
about  to  get  them  a  late  tea,  while  Stumps  had  been 
sent  off  to  Tew  the  butcher,  to  get  a  piece  of  raw 
beef  for  Tom's  eye,  which  was  to  be  healed  off-hand, 
so  that  he  might  show  well  in  the  morning.  He  was 
not  a  bit  the  Avorse  except  a  slight  difficulty  in  his 
vision,  a  singing  in  his  ears,  and  a  sprained  thumb, 
which  he  kept  in  a  cold-water  bandage,  while  he 
drank  lots  of  tea,  and  listened  to  the  Babel  of  voices 
talking  and  speculating  of  nothing  but  the  fight,  and 
how  Williams  would  have  given  in  after  another  fall 
(which  he  didn't  in  the  least  believe),  and  how  on 
earth  the  Doctor  could  have  got  to  know  of  it, — such 
bad  luck  !  He  couldn't  help  thinking  to  himself  that 
he  was  glad  he  hadn't  Avon  ;  he  liked  it  better  as  it 
was,  and  felt  very  friendly  to  the  Slogger.  And  then 
poor  little  Arthur  crept  in  and  sat  doAvn  quietly  near 
him,  and  kept  looking  at  him  and  the  raAV  beef  with 
such  plaintive  looks,  that  Tom  at  last  burst  out 
laughing. 

"  Don't  make  such  eyes,  young  "un,"  said  he, 
"there's  nothing  the  matter." 

"Oh  but,  Tom,  are  you  much  hurt?  I  can't  bear 
thinking  it  was  all  for  me." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  don't  flatter  yourself.  We  were 
sure  to  have  had  it  out  sooner  or  later." 

23 


354  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Well,  but  you  won't  go  on,  will  you  ?  You'll 
promise  me  you  won't  go  on  ?" 

"  Can't  tell  about  that — all  depends  on  the  houses. 
We're  in  the  hands  of  our  countrymen,  you  know. 
Must  fight  for  the  School-house  flag,  if  so  be." 

However,  the  lovers  of  the  science  were  doomed  to 
disappointment  this  time.  Directly  after  locking-up, 
one  of  the  night  fags  knocked  at  Tom's  door. 

"  Brown,  young  Brooke  wants  you  in  the  sixth-form 
room." 

Up  went  Tom  to  the  summons,  and  found  the  mag- 
nates sitting  at  their  supper. 

"  Well,  Brown,"  said  young  Brooke,  nodding  to 
him,  "how  do  you  feel?" 

"  Oh,  very  well,  thank  you,  only  I've  sprained  my 
thumb,  I  think." 

"  Sure  to  do  that  in  a  fight.  Well,  you  hadn't  the 
worst  of  it,  I  could  see.  Where  did  you  learn  that 
throw?" 

"Down  in  the  country,  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"  Hullo !  why  what  are  you  now  ?  Well,  never 
mind,  you're  a  plucky  fellow.  Sit  down  and  have 
some  supper." 

Tom  obeyed,  by  no  means  loth.  And  the  fifth-form 
boy  next  him  filled  him  a  tumbler  of  bottled-beer,  and 
he  ate  and  drank,  listening  to  the  pleasant  talk,  and 
wondering  how  soon  he  should  be  in  the  fifth,  and  one 
of  that  much-envied  society. 

As  he  got  up  to  leave,  Brooke  said,  "  You  must 


THE  FIGHT.  355 

shake  hands  to-morrow  morning  ;  I  shall  come  and  see 
that  done  after  first  lesson." 

And  so  he  did.  And  Tom  and  the  Slogger  shook 
hands  with  great  satisfaction  and  mutual  respect. 
And  for  the  next  year  or  two,  whenever  fights  were 
being  talked  of,  the  small  boys  who  had  been  present 
shook  their  heads  wisely,  saying,  "  Ah !  but  you 
should  just  have  seen  the  fight  between  Slogger 
Williams  and  Tom  Brown  !" 

And  now,  boys  all,  three  words  before  we  quit  the 
subject.  I  have  put  in  this  chapter  on  fighting  of 
malice  prepense,  partly  because  I  want  to  give  you  a 
true  picture  of  what  every-day  school  life  was  in  my 
time,  and  not  a  kid-glove  and  go-to-meeting-coat  pic- 
ture ;  and  partly  because  of  the  cant  and  twaddle 
that's  talked  of  boxing  and  fighting  with  fists  now-a- 
days.  Even  Thackeray  has  given  in  to  it ;  and  only 
a  few  weeks  ago  there  was  some  rampant  stuff  in  the 
Times  on  the  subject,  in  an  article  on  field  sports. 

Boys  will  quarrel,  and  when  they  quarrel  will  some- 
times fight.  Fighting  with  fists  is  the  natural  and 
English  way  for  English  boys  to  settle  their  quarrels. 
"What  substitute  for  it  is  there,  or  ever  was  there, 
amongst  any  nation  under  the  sun  ?  What  would  you 
like  to  see  take  its  place  ? 

Learn  to  box,  then,  as  you  learn  to  play  cricket  and 
football.  Not  one  of  you  will  be  the  worse,  but  very 
much  the  better  for  learning  to  box  well.  Should  you 
never  have  to  use  it  in  earnest,  there's  no  exercise  in 


356  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  world  so  good  for  the  temper,  and  for  the  muscles 
of  the  back  and  legs. 

As  to  fighting,  keep  out  of  it  if  you  can,  by  all 
means.  When  the  time  comes,  if  it  ever  should,  that 
you  have  to  say  "Yes"  or  "  No  "  to  a  challenge  to 
fight,  say  "No"  if  you  can, — only  take  care  you 
make  it  clear  to  yourselves  why  you  say  "  No."  It's 
a  proof  of  the  highest  courage,  if  done  from  true 
Christian  motives.  It's  quite  right  and  justifiable,  if 
done  from  a  simple  aversion  to  physical  pain  and 
danger.  But  don't  say  "No"  because  you  fear  a 
licking,  and  say  or  think  it's  because  you  fear  God, 
for  that's  neither  Christian  nor  honest.  And  if  you 
do  fight,  fight  it  out ;  and  don't  give  in  while  you  can 
stand  and  see. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
FEVER  IX  THE  SCHOOL. 

"  This  our  hope  for  all  that's  mortal, 
And  we  too  shall  burst  the  bond ; 
Death  keeps  watch  beside  the  portal, 
But  'tis  life  that  dwells  beyond." 

JOHN  STERLING. 

Two  years  have  passed  since  the  events  recorded  in 
the  last  chapter,  and  the  end  of  the  summer  half-year 
is  again  drawing  on.  Martin  has  left  and  gone  on  a 
a  cruise  in  the  South  Pacific,  in  one  of  his  uncle's 
ships ;  the  old  magpie,  as  disreputable  as  ever,  his  last 
bequest  to  Arthur,  lives  in  the  joint  study.  Arthur 
is  nearly  sixteen,  and  is  at  the  head  of  the  twenty, 
having  gone  up  the  school  at  the  rate  of  a  form  a  half- 
year.  East  and  Tom  have  been  much  more  deliberate 
in  their  progress,  and  are  only  a  little  way  up  the  fifth 
form.  Great  strapping  boys  they  are,  but  still 
thorough  boys,  filling  about  the  same  place  in  the 
House  that  young  Brooke  filled  Avhen  they  were  new 
boys,  and  much  the  same  sort  of  fellows.  Constant 
intercourse  with  Arthur  has  done  much  for  both  of 
them,  especially  for  Tom ;  but  much  remains  yet  to  be 
done,  if  they  are  to  get  all  the  good  out  of  Rugby 

357 


358  TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

which  is  to  be  got  there  in  these  times.  Arthur  is 
still  frail  and  delicate,  with  more  spirit  than  body ; 
but,  thanks  to  his  intimacy  with  them  and  Martin, 
has  learned  to  swim,  and  run,  and  play  cricket,  and 
has  never  hurt  himself  by  too  much  reading. 

One  evening,  as  they  were  all  sitting  down  to 
supper  in  the  fifth-form  room,  some  one  started  a 
report  that  a  fever  had  broken  out  at  one  of  the  board- 
ing-houses ;  "they  say,"  he  added,  "that  Thompson 
is  very  ill,  and  that  Dr.  Robertson  has  been  sent  for 
from  Northampton." 

"  Then  we  shall  all  be  sent  home,"  cried  another. 
"  Hurrah  !  five  weeks'  extra  holidays,  and  no  fifth- 
form  examination !" 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Tom;  "there'll  be  no  Maryle- 
bone  match  then  at  the  end  of  the  half." 

Some  thought  one  thing,  some  another,  many  didn't 
believe  the  report ;  but  the  next  day,  Tuesday,  Dr. 
Robertson  arrived,  and  stayed  all  day,  and  had  long 
conferences  with  the  Doctor. 

On  Wednesday  morning,  after  prayers,  the  Doctor 
addressed  the  whole  School.  There  were  several  cases 
of  fever  in  different  houses,  he  said  ;  but  Dr.  Robert- 
son, after  the  most  careful  examination,  had  assured 
him  that  it  was  not  infectious,  and  that  if  proper  care 
were  taken,  there  could  be  no  reason  for  stopping  the 
school  work  at  present.  The  examinations  were  just 
coming  on,  and  it  would  be  very  unadvisable  to 
break  up  now.  However,  any  boys  who  chose  to  do 


FEVER   IN   THE  SCHOOL.  359 

so  were  at  liberty  to  write  home,  and,  if  their  parents 
wished  it,  to  leave  at  once.  He  should  send  the  whole 
School  home  if  the  fever  spread. 

The  next  day  Arthur  sickened,  but  there  was  no 
other  case.  Before  the  end  of  the  week  thirty  or  forty 
boys  had  gone,  but  the  rest  stayed  on.  There  was  a 
general  wish  to  please  the  Doctor,  and  a  feeling  that  it 
was  cowardly  to  run  away. 

On  the  Saturday  Thompson  died,  in  the  bright 
afternoon,  while  the  cricket-match  was  Corner  on  as 

7  o          O 

usual  on  the  big-side  ground  :  the  Doctor  coming  from 
his  death-bed,  passed  along  the  gravel-walk  at  the  side 
of  the  close,  but  no  one  knew  what  had  happened  till 
the  next  day.  At  morning  lecture  it  began  to  be 
rumored,  and  by  afternoon  chapel  was  known  gen- 
erally ;  and  a  feeling  of  seriousness  and  awe  at  the 
actual  presence  of  death  among  them  came  over  the 
whole  School.  In  all  the  long  years  of  his  ministry 
the  Doctor  perhaps  never  spoke  words  which  sank 
deeper  than  some  of  those  in  that  day's  sermon. 
"  When  I  came  yesterday  from  visiting  all  but  the 

mf  V 

very  death-bed  of  him  who  has  been  taken  from  us, 
and  looked  around  upon  all  the  familiar  objects  and 
scenes  within  our  own  ground,  where  your  common 
amusements  were  going  on,  with  your  common  cheer- 
fulness and  activity,  I  felt  there  was  nothing  painful 
in  witnessing  that ;  it  did  not  seem  in  any  way  shock- 
ing or  out  of  tune  with  those  feelings  which  the  sight 
of  a  dying  Christian  must  be  supposed  to  awaken. 


360  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

The  unsuitableness  in  point  of  natural  feeling  between 
scenes  of  mourning  and  scenes  of  liveliness  did  not  at 
all  present  itself.  But  I  did  feel  that  if  at  that 
moment  any  of  those  faults  had  been  brought  before 
me  which  sometimes  occur  amongst  us ;  had  I  heard 
that  any  of  you  had  been  guilty  of  falsehood,  or  of 
drunkenness,  or  of  any  other  such  sin  ;  had  I  heard 
from  any  quarter  the  language  of  profaneness,  or  of 
unkindness,  or  of  indecency  ;  had  I  heard  or  seen  any 
signs  of  that  wretched  folly  which  courts  the  laugh  of 
fools  by  affecting  not  to  dread  evil  and  not  to  care  for 
good,  then  the  unsuitableness  of  any  of  these  things 
wTith  the  scene  I  had  just  quitted  would  indeed  have 
been  most  intensely  painful.  And  why  ?  Not  because 
such  things  would  really  have  been  worse  than  at  any 
other  time,  but  because  at  such  a  moment  the  eyes  are 
opened  really  to  know  good  and  evil,  because  we  then 
feel  what  it  is  so  to  live  as  that  death  becomes  an 
infinite  blessing,  and  what  it  is  so  to  live  also,  that  it 
were  good  for  us  if  we  had  never  been  born." 

Tom  had  gone  into  chapel  in  sickening  anxiety 
about  Arthur,  but  he  came  out  cheered  and  strength- 
ened by  those  grand  words,  and  walked  up  alone  to 
their  study.  And  when  he  sat  down  and  looked 
round,  and  saw  Arthur's  straw  hat  and  cricket-jacket 
hanging  on  their  pegs,  and  marked  all  his  little  neat 
arrangements,  not  one  of  which  had  been  disturbed, 
the  tears  indeed  rolled  down  his  cheeks ;  but  they 
were  calm  and  blessed  tears,  and  he  repeated  to  him- 


FEVER  IX   THE  SCHOOL.  361 

self,  "  Yes,  Geordie's  eyes  are  opened — he  knows  what 
it  is  so  to  live  as  that  death  becomes  an  infinite  bless- 
ing. But  do  I  ?  Oh,  God,  can  I  bear  to  lose  him  ?" 

The  week  passed  mournfully  away.  Xo  more  boys 
sickened,  but  Arthur  was  reported  worse  each  day, 
and  his  mother  arrived  early  in  the  week.  Tom  made 
many  appeals  to  be  allowed  to  see  him.  and  several 
times  tried  to  get  up  to  the  sick-room  ;  but  the  house- 
keeper was  always  in  the  way,  and  at  last  spoke  to  the 
Doctor,  who  kindly,  but  peremptorily,  forbade  him. 

Thompson  was  buried  on  the  Tuesday :  and  the 
burial  service,  so  soothing  and  grand  always,  but 
beyond  all  words  solemn  when  read  over  a  boy's  grave 
to  his  companions,  brought  him  much  comfort,  and 
many  strange  new  thoughts  and  longings.  He  went 
back  to  his  regular  life,  and  played  cricket  and  bathed 
as  usual :  it  seemed  to  him  that  this  was  the  right 
thing  to  do,  and  the  new  thoughts  and  longings 
became  more  brave  and  healthy  for  the  effort.  The 
crisis  came  on  Saturday,  the  day  week  that  Thompson 
had  died  ;  and  during  that  long  afternoon  Tom  sat  in 
his  study  reading  his  Bible  and  going  every  half-hour 
to  the  housekeeper's  room,  expecting  each  time  to  hear 
that  the  gentle  and  brave  little  spirit  had  gone  home. 
But  God  had  work  for  Arthur  to  do :  the  crisis  passed 
— on  Sunday  evening  he  was  declared  out  of  danger ; 
on  Monday  he  sent  a  message  to  Tom  that  he  was 
almost  well,  had  changed  his  room,  and  was  to  be 
allowed  to  see  him  the  next  day. 


362  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

It  was  evening  Avhen  the  housekeeper  summoned 
him  to  the  sick-room.  Arthur  was  lying  on  the  sofa 
by  the  open  window,  through  which  the  rays  of  the 
western  sun  stole  gently,  lighting  up  his  white  face 
and  golden  hair.  Tom  remembered  a  German  picture 
of  an  angel  which  he  knew ;  often  had  he  thought 
how  transparent  and  golden  and  spirit-like  it  was ; 
and  he  shuddered  to  think  how  like  it  Arthur  looked, 
and  felt  a  shock  as  if  his  blood  had  all  stopped  short, 
as  he  realized  how  near  the  other  world  his  friend 
must  have  been  to  look  like  that.  Never  till  that 
moment  had  he  felt  how  his  little  chum  had  twined 
himself  round  his  heartstrings  ;  and  as  he  stole  gently 
across  the  room  and  knelt  down,  and  put  his  arm 
round  Arthur's  head  on  the  pillow,  he  felt  ashamed 
and  half  angry  at  his  own  red  and  brown  face,  and 
the  bounding  sense  of  health  and  power  which  filled 
every  fibre  of  his  body,  and  made  every  movement  of 
mere  living  a  joy  to  him.  He  needn't  have  troubled 
himself;  it  was  this  very  strength  and  power  so  dif- 
ferent from  his  own  which  drew  Arthur  so  to  him. 

Arthur  laid  his  thin  white  hand,  on  which  the  blue 
veins  stood  out  so  plainly,  on  Tom's  great  brown  fist, 
and  smiled  at  him ;  and  then  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow again,  as  if  he  couldn't  bear  to  lose  a  moment  of 
the  sunset,  into  the  tops  of  the  great  feathery  elms, 
round  which  the  rooks  were  circling  and  clanging, 
returning  in  flocks  from  their  evening  foraging  par- 
ties. The  elms  rustled,  the  spamnvs  in  the  ivy  just 


FEVER  IX  THE  SCHOOL.  363 

outside  the  window  chirped  and  fluttered  about,  quar- 
relling and  making  it  up  again ;  the  rooks  young  and 
old  talked  in  chorus ;  and  the  merry  shouts  of  the 
boys,  and  the  sweet  click  of  the  cricket-bats,  came 
up  cheerily  from  below. 

"Dear  George,"  said  Tom,  "I  am  so  glad  to  be 
let  up  to  see  you  at  last.  I've  tried  hard  to  come  so 
often,  but  they  wouldn't  let  me  before." 

"  Oh,  I  know,  Tom  ;  Mary  has  told  me  every  day 
about  you.  and  how  she  was  obliged  to  make  the 
Doctor  speak  to  you  to  keep  you  away.  I'm  very 
glad  you  didn't  get  up,  for  you  might  have  caught  it, 
and  you  couldn't  stand  being  ill  with  all  the  matches 
going  on.  And  you're  in  the  eleven  too,  I  hear — 
I'm  so  glad." 

"Yes,  ain't  it  jolly?"  said  Tom  proudly;  "I'm 
ninth  too.  I  made  forty  at  the  last  pie-match  and 
caught  three  fellows  out.  So  I  was  put  in  above 
Jones  and  Tucker.  Tucker's  GO  savage,  for  he  was 
head  of  the  twenty-two." 

"Well.  I  think  you  ought  to  be  higher  yet,"  said 
Arthur,  who  was  as  jealous  for  the  renown  of  Tom 
in  games,  as  Tom  was  for  his  as  a  scholar. 

"  Xever  mind,  I  don't  care  about  cricket  or  any- 
thing now  you're  getting  well,  Geordie  ;  and  I  shouldn't 
have  hurt,  I  know,  if  they'd  have  let  me  come  up, — 
nothing  hurts  me.  But  you'll  get  about  now  directly, 
won't  you  ?  You  won't  believe  how  clean  I've  kept 
the  study.  All  your  things  are  just  as  you  left  them  ; 


364  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

and  I  feed  the  old  magpie  just  when  you  used,  though 
I  have  to  come  in  from  big-side  for  him,  the  old  rip. 
He  won't  look  pleased  all  I  can  do,  and  sticks  his  head 
first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other,  and  blinks  at 
me  before  he'll  begin  to  eat,  till  I'm  half  inclined  to 
box  his  ears.  And  whenever  East  comes  in,  you 
should  see  him  hop  off  to  the  window,  dot  and  go  one, 
though  Harry  wouldn't  touch  a  feather  of  him  now." 

Arthur  laughed.  "  Old  Gravey  has  a  good  mem- 
ory ;  he  can't  forget  the  sieges  of  poor  Martin's  den 
in  old  times."  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  went 
on.  "You  can't  think  how  often  I've  been  thinking 
of  old  Martin  since  I've  been  ill ;  I  suppose  one's 
mind  gets  restless,  and  likes  to  wander  off  to  strange 
unknown  places.  I  wonder  what  queer  new  pets  the 
old  boy  has  got;  how  he  must  be  revelling  in  the 
thousand  new  birds,  beasts,  and  fishes." 

Tom  felt  a  pang  of  jealousy,  but  kicked  it  out  in  a 
moment.  "  Fancy  him  on  a  South-Sea  island,  with 
the  Cherokees  or  Patagonians,  or  some  such  wild  nig- 
gers;" (Tom's  ethnology  and  geography  were  faulty, 
but  sufficient  for  his  needs ;)  "  they'll  make  the  old 
Madman  cock  medicine-man  and  tattoo  him  all  over. 
Perhaps  he's  cutting  about  now  all  blue,  and  has  a 
squaw  and  a  wigwam.  He'll  improve  their  boom- 
erangs, and  be  able  to  throw  them  too,  Avithout  hav- 
ing old  Thomas  sent  after  him  by  the  Doctor  to  take 
them  away." 

Arthur  laughed  at  the  remembrance  of  the  boom- 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL.  365 

erang  story,  but  then  looked  grave  again,  and  said, 
"  He'll  convert  all  the  island,  I  know." 

"Yes,  if  he  don't  blow  it  up  first." 

"  Do  you  remember,  Tom,  how  you  and  East  used 
to  lau^h  at  him  and  chaff  him,  because  he  said  he 

O  7 

was  sure  the  rooks  all  had  calling-over  or  prayers,  or 
something  of  the  sort,  when  the  locking-up  bell  rang  ? 
Well,  I  declare,"  said  Arthur,  looking  up  seriously 
into  Tom's  laughing  eyes,  "  I  do  think  he  was  right. 
Since  I've  been  lying  here,  I've  watched  them 
every  night ;  and  do  you  know,  they  really  do  come, 
and  perch  all  of  them  just  about  locking-up  time; 
and  then  first  there's  a  regular  chorus  of  caws,  and 
then  they  stop  a  bit,  and  one  old  fellow,  or  perhaps 
two  or  three  in  different  trees,  caw  solos,  and  then  off 
they  all  go  again,  fluttering  about  and  cawing  any- 
how till  they  roost." 

"I  wonder  if  the  old  blackies  do  talk,"  said  Tom, 
looking  up  at  them.  "  How  they  must  abuse  me 
and  East,  and  pray  for  the  Doctor  for  stopping  the 
slinging." 

"There!  look,  look!"  Cried  Arthur;  "don't  you 
see  the  old  fellow  without  a  tail  coming  up  ?  Martin 
used  to  call  him  the  '  clerk.'  He  can't  steer  himself. 
You  never  saw  such  fun  as  he  is  in  a  high  wind, 
when  he  can't  steer  himself  home,  and  gets  carried 
right  past  the  trees,  and  has  to  bear  up  again  and 
again  before  he  can  perch." 

The   locking-up   bell  began   to   toll,  and   the  two 


366  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

boys  were  silent,  and  listened  to  it.  The  sound  soon 
carried  Tom  off  to  the  river  and  woods,  and  he  began 
to  go  over  in  his  mind  the  many  occasions  on  which 
he  had  heard  that  toll  coming  faintly  down  the  breeze, 
and  had  to  pack  up  his  rod  in  a  hurry,  and  make  a 
run  for  it  to  get  in  before  the  gates  were  shut.  He 
was  roused  with  a  start  from  his  memories  by  Arthur's 
voice,  gentle  and  weak  from  his  late  illness. 

"  Tom,  will  you  be  angry  if  I  talk  to  you  very 
seriously  ?" 

"No,  dear  old  boy,  not  I.  But  ain't  you  faint, 
Arthur,  or  ill  ?  What  can  I  get  you  ?  Don't  say 
anything  yourself  now — you  are  very  weak ;  let  me 
come  up  again." 

"No,  no,  I  shan't  hurt  myself:  I'd  sooner  speak 
to  you  now,  if  you  don't  mind.  I've  asked  Mary  to 
tell  the  Doctor  that  you  are  with  me,  so  you  needn't 
go  down  to  calling-over ;  and  I  mayn't  have  another 
chance,  for  I  shall  most  likely  have  to  go  home  for 
change  of  air  to  get  well,  and  mayn't  come  back  this 
half." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  you  must  go  away  before  the 
end  of  the  half?  I'm  so  sorry.  It's  more  than  five 
weeks  yet  to  the  holidays,  and  all  the  fifth-form  ex- 
amination and  half  the  cricket-matches  to  come  yet. 
And  what  shall  I  do  all  that  time  alone  in  our  study  ? 
Why,  Arthur,  it  will  be  more  than  twelve  weeks  before 
I  see  you  again.  Oh,  hang  it,  I  can't  stand  that ! 
Besides,  who's  to  keep  me  up  to  working  at  the  exam- 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL.  367 

ination  books  ?  I  shall  come  out  bottom  of  the  form 
as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs." 

Tom  was  rattling  on,  half  in  joke,  half  in  earnest, 
for  he  wanted  to  get  Arthur  out  of  his  serious  vein, 
thinking  it  would  do  him  harm  ;  but  Arthur  broke 
in — 

"  Oh,  please,  Tom,  stop,  or  you'll  drive  all  I  had  to 
say  out  of  my  head.  And  I'm  already  horribly  afraid 
I'm  going  to  make  you  angry." 

"  Don't  gammon,  young  'un,"  rejoined  Tom  (the  use 
of  the  old  name,  dear  to  him  from  old  recollections, 
made  Arthur  start  and  smile,  and  feel  quite  happy) ; 
"you  know  you  ain't  afraid,  and  you've  never  made 
me  angry  since  the  first  month  we  chummed  together. 
Now  I'm  going  to  be  quite  sober  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  Avhich  is  more  than  I  am  once  in  a  year ;  so 
make  the  most  of  it ;  heave  ahead,  and  pitch  into  me 
right  and  left." 

"Dear  Tom,  I  ain't  going  to  pitch  into  you,"  said 
Arthur  piteously ;  "  and  it  seems  so  cocky  in  me  to  be 
advising  you,  who've  been  my  backbone  ever  since 
I've  been  at  Rugby,  and  have  made  the  school  a  para- 
dise to  me.  Ah,  I  see  I  shall  never  do  it,  unless  I  go 
head-over-heels  at  once,  as  you  said  when  you  taught 
me  to  swim.  Tom,  I  want  you  to  give  up  using 
vulgus-books  and  cribs." 

Arthur  sank  back  on  to  his  pillow  with  a  sigh,  as  if 
the  effort  had  been  great ;  but  the  worst  was  now  over, 
and  he  looked  straight  at  Tom,  who  was  evidently 


368  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

taken  aback.  He  leant  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and 
struck  his  hands  into  his  hair,  whistled  a  verse  of 
"Billy  Taylor,"  and  then  was  quite  silent  for  another 
minute.  Not  a  shade  crossed  his  face,  but  he  was 
clearly  puzzled.  At  last  he  looked  up  and  caught 
Arthur's  anxious  look,  took  his  hand,  and  said 
simply — 

"  Why,  young  'un  ?" 

"  Because  you're  the  honestest  boy  in  Rugby,  and 
that  ain't  honest." 

u  I  don't  see  that." 

"  What  Avere  you  sent  to  Rugby  for?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  exactly — nobody  ever  told  me. 
I  suppose  because  all  boys  are  sent  to  a  public  school 
in  England." 

"But  what  do  you  think  yourself?  What  do  you 
want  to  do  here,  and  to  carry  away  ?" 

Tom  thought  a  minute.  "  I  want  to  be  A  1  at 
cricket  and  football,  and  all  the  other  games,  and  to 
make  my  hands  keep  my  head  against  any  fellow,  lout 
or  gentleman.  I  want  to  get  into  the  sixth  before  I 
leave,  and  to  please  the  Doctor ;  and  I  want  to  carry 
away  just  as  much  Latin  and  Greek  as  will  take  me 
through  Oxford  respectably.  There  now,  young  'un,  I 
never  thought  of  it  before,  but  that's  pretty  much  about 
my  figure.  Ain't  it  all  on  the  square?  What  have 
you  got  to  say  to  that?" 

"  Why,  that  you  are  pretty  sure  to  do  all  that  you 
want,  then." 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL.  369 

"Well,  I  hope  so.  But  you've  forgot  one  thing, 
what  I  want  to  leave  behind  me.  I  want  to  leave 
behind  me,"  said  Tom,  speaking  slow,  and  looking 
much  moved,  "  the  name  of  a  fellow  who  never  bullied 
a  little  boy,  or  turned  his  back  on  a  big  one." 

Arthur  pressed  his  hand,  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  went  on  :  "You  say,  Tom,  you  want  to  please 
the  Doctor.  Now,  do  you  want  to  please  him  by  what 
he  thinks  you  do,  or  by  what  you  really  do?" 

"  By  what  I  really  do,  of  course." 

"Does  he  think  you  use  cribs  and  vulgus-books ?" 

Tom  felt  at  once  that  his  flank  was  turned,  but  he 
couldn't  give  in.  "  He  was  at  Winchester  himself," 
said  he;  "he  knows  all  about  it." 

"  Yes,  but  does  he  think  you  use  them  ?  Do  you 
think  he  approves  of  it?" 

"You  young  villain  !"  said  Tom,  shaking  his  fist  at 
Arthur,  half  vexed  and  half  pleased,  "  I  never  think 
about  it.  Hang  it — there,  perhaps  he  don't.  Well,  I 
suppose  he  don't." 

Arthur  saw  that  he  had  got  his  point ;  he  knew  his 
friend  well,  and  was  wise  in  silence,  as  in  speech.  He 
only  said,  "  I  would  sooner  have  the  Doctor's  good 
opinion  of  me  as  I  really  am  than  any  man's  in  the 
world." 

After  another  minute,  Tom  began  again  :  "  Look 
here,  young  'un  ;  how  on  earth  am  I  to  get  time  to 
play  the  matches  this  half,  if  I  give  up  cribs  ?  We're 
in  the  middle  of  that  long  crabbed  chorus  in  the 

24 


370  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Agamemnon  ;  "  I  can  only  just  make  head  or  tail  of 
it  with  the  crib.  Then  there's  Pericles'  speech  coming 
on  in  Thucydides,  and  '  The  Birds '  to  get  up  for  the 
examination,  besides  the  Tacitus."  Tom  groaned  at 
the  thought  of  his  accumulated  labors.  "  I  say, 
young  'un,  there's  only  five  weeks  or  so  left  to 
holidays;  mayn't  I  go  on  as  usual  for  this  half?  I'll 
tell  the  Doctor  about  it  some  day,  or  you  may." 

Arthur  looked  out  of  window  ;  the  twilight  had  come 
on  and  all  was  silent.  He  repeated,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  In  this  thing  the  Lord  pardon  thy  servant,  that  when 
my  master  goeth  into  the  house  of  Rimmon  to  worship 
there,  and  he  leaneth  on  my  hand,  and  I  bow  myself 
in  the  house  of  Rimmon,  the  Lord  pardon  thy  servant 
in  this  thing." 

Not  a  word  more  was  said  on  the  subject,  and  the 
boys  were  again  silent — one  of  those  blessed,  short 
silences  in  which  the  resolves  which  color  a  life  are 
so  often  taken. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  break  it.  "You've  been  very 
ill  indeed,  haven't  you,  Geordie  ?"  said  he,  with  a  mix- 
ture of  awe  and  curiosity,  feeling  as  if  his  friend  had 
been  in  some  strange  place  or  scene,  of  which  he  could 
form  no  idea,  and  full  of  the  memory  of  his  own 
thoughts  during  the  last  week. 

"  Yes,  very.  I'm  sure  the  Doctor  thought  I  was 
going  to  die.  He  gave  me  the  sacrament  last  Sunday, 
and  you  can't  think  what  he  is  when  one  is  ill.  He 
said  such  brave,  and  tender,  and  gentle  things  to  me ; 


FEVER  IN  THE  SCHOOL.  371 

I  felt  quite  light  and  strong  after  it,  and  never  had 
any  more  fear.  My  mother  brought  our  old  medical 
man,  who  attended  me  when  I  was  a  poor  sickly  child  ; 
he  said  my  constitution  Avas  quite  changed,  and  that 
I'm  fit  for  anything  now.  If  it  hadn't,  I  couldn't 
have  stood  three  days  of  this  illness.  That's  all 
thanks  to  you,  and  the  games  you've  made  me  fond 
of." 

"  More  thanks  to  old  Martin,"  said  Tom ;  "  he's 
been  your  real  friend." 

"  Nonsense,  Tom  ;  he  never  could  have  done  for  me 
what  you  have." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  ;  I  did  little  enough.  Did 
they  tell  you — you  won't  mind  hearing  it  now,  I  know, 
— that  poor  Thompson  died  last  week  ?  The  other 
three  boys  are  getting  quite  round,  like  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  heard  of  it." 

Then  Tom,  who  was  quite  full  of  it,  told  Arthur  of 
the  burial-service  in  the  chapel,  and  how  it  had  im- 
pressed him,  and  he  believed  all  the  other  boys. 
"  And  though  the  Doctor  never  said  a  word  about  it," 
said  he,  "  and  it  was  a  half-holiday  and  match-day, 
there  wasn't  a  game  played  in  the  close  all  the  after- 
noon, and  the  boys  all  went  about  as  if  it  were 
Sunday." 

"  I'm  very  glad  of  it,"  said  Arthur.  "  But,  Tom, 
I've  had  such  strange  thoughts  about  death  lately. 
I've  never  told  a  soul  of  them,  not  even  my  mother. 
Sometimes  I  think  they're  wrong ;  but,  do  you  know, 


372  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

I  don't  think  in  my  heart  I  could  be  sorry  at  the 
death  of  any  of  my  friends." 

Tom  was  taken  quite  aback.  "  What  in  the  world 
is  the  young  'un  after  now  ?"  thought  he ;  "  I've  swal- 
lowed a  good  many  of  his  crotchets,  but  this  altogether 
beats  me.  He  can't  be  quite  right  in  his  head."  He 
didn't  want  to  say  a  word,  and  shifted  about  uneasily 
in  the  dark ;  however,  Arthur  seemed  to  be  waiting 
for  an  answer,  so  at  last  he  said,  "  I  don't  think  I 
quite  see  what  you  mean,  Geordie.  One's  told  so  often 
to  think  about  death,  that  I've  tried  it  on  sometimes, 
especially  this  last  week.  But  we  won't  talk  of  it 
now.  I'd  better  go — you're  getting  tired,  and  I  shall 
do  you  harm." 

"No,  no,  indeed  I  ain't,  Tom;  you  must  stop  till 
nine,  there's  only  twenty  minutes.  I've  settled  you 
shall  stop  till  nine.  And  oh  !  do  let  me  talk  to  you — 
I  must  talk  to  you.  I  see  it's  just  as  I  feared.  You 
think  I'm  half  mad — don't  you  now?" 

"  Well,  I  did  think  it  odd  what  you  said,  Geordie, 
as  you  ask  me." 

Arthur  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said  quickly, 
"  I'll  tell  you  how  it  all  happened.  At  first,  when  I 
was  sent  to  the  sick-room,  and  found  I  had  really  got 
the  fever,  I  was  terribly  frightened.  I  thought  I  should 
die,  and  I  could  not  face  it  for  a  moment.  I  don't 
think  it  was  sheer  cowardice  at  first,  but  I  thought  how 
hard  it  was  to  be  taken  away  from  my  mother  and 
sisters,  and  you  all,  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  see  my 


FEVEE  IN  THE  SCHOOL.  373 

way  to  many  things,  and  to  feel  that  I  might  be  a  man 
and  do  a  man's  work.  To  die  without  having  fought, 
and  worked,  and  given  one's  life  away,  was  too  hard  to 
bear.  I  got  terribly  impatient,  and  accused  God  of 
injustice,  and  strove  to  justify  myself;  and  the  harder 
I  strove  the  deeper  I  sank.  Then  the  image  of  my 
dear  father  often  came  across  me,  but  I  turned  from  it. 
Whenever  it  came,  a  heavy  numbing  throb  seemed  to 
take  hold  of  my  heart  and  say,  '  Dead — dead — dead.' 
And  I  cried  out,  '  The  living,  the  living,  shall  praise 
Thee,  0  God ;  the  dead  cannot  praise  Thee.  There  is 
no  work  in  the  grave ;  in  the  night  no  man  can  work. 
But  I  can  work.  I  can  do  great  things.  I  ivill  do 
great  things.  Why  wilt  Thou  slay  me  ?'  And  so  I 
struggled  and  plunged  deeper  and  deeper,  and  went 
down  into  a  living  black  tomb.  I  was  alone  there, 
with  no  power  to  stir  or  think  ;  alone  with  myself; 
beyond  the  reach  of  all  human  fellowship  ;  beyond 
Christ's  reach,  I  thought,  in  my  nightmare.  You,  who 
are  brave  and  bright  and  strong,  can  have  no  idea  of 
that  agony.  Pray  to  God  you  never  may.  Pray  as 
for  your  life." 

Arthur  stopped — from  exhaustion,  Tom  thought ; 
but  what  between  his  fear  lest  Arthur  should  hurt 
himself,  his  awe,  and  longing  for  him  to  go  on,  he 
couldn't  ask,  or  stir  to  help  him. 

Presently  he  went  on,  but  quite  calm  and  slow.  "  I 
don't  know  how  long  I  was  in  that  state.  For  more 
than  a  day,  I  know  ;  for  I  was  quite  conscious,  and 


374  TOM  BEOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

lived  my  outer  life  all  the  time,  and  took  my  medicine, 
and  spoke  to  my  mother,  and  heard  what  they  said. 
But  I  didn't  take  much  note  of  time ;  I  thought  time 
was  over  for  me,  and  that  that  tomb  was  what  was 
beyond.  Well,  on  last  Sunday  morning,  as  I  seemed 
to  lie  in  that  tomb,  alone,  us  I  thought,  for  ever  and 
ever,  the  black  dead  Avail  was  cleft  in  two,  and  I  was 
caught  up  and  borne  through  into  the  light  by  some 
great  power,  some  living  mighty  spirit.  Tom,  do  you 
remember  the  living  creatures  and  the  wheels  in 
Ezekiel  ?  It  was  just  like  that:  'when  they  went  I 
heard  the  noise  of  their  wings,  like  the  noise  of  great 
waters,  as  the  voice  of  the  Almighty,  the  voice  of 
speech,  as  the  noise  of  an  host ;  when  they  stood  they 
let  down  their  wings ' — '  and  they  went  every  one 
straight  forward ;  whither  the  spirit  was  to  go  they 
went,  and  they  turned  not  when  they  went.'  And  we 
rushed  through  the  bright  air,  which  was  full  of 
myriads  of  living  creatures,  and  paused  on  the  brink 
of  a  great  river.  And  the  power  held  me  up,  and  I 
knew  that  that  great  river  was  the  grave,  and  death 
dwelt  there ;  but  not  the  death  I  had  met  in  the  black 
tomb — that  I  felt  was  gone  for  ever.  For  on  the  other 
bank  of  the  great  river  I  saw  men  and  women  and 
children  rising  up  pure  and  bright,  and  the  tears  were 
wiped  from  their  eyes,  and  they  put  on  glory  and 
strength,  and  all  weariness  and  pain  fell  away.  And 
beyond  were  a  multitude  which  no  man  could  number, 
and  they  worked  at  some  great  work ;  and  they  who 


FEVER  IX  THE  SCHOOL.  375 

rose  from  the  river  went  on  and  joined  in  the  work. 
They  all  worked,  and  each  worked  in  a  different  way, 
but  all  at  the  same  work.  And  I  saw  there  my  father, 
and  the  men  of  the  old  town  whom  I  knew  when  I 
was  a  child ;  many  a  hard  stern  man,  who  never  came 
to  church,  and  whom  they  called  atheist  and  infidel. 
There  they  were,  side  by  side  with  my  father,  whom  I 
had  seen  toil  and  die  for  them,  and  women  and  little 
children,  and  the  seal  was  on  the  foreheads  of  all. 
And  I  longed  to  see  what  the  work  was,  and  could  not ; 
so  I  tried  to  plunge  in  the  river,  for  I  thought  I  would 
join  them,  but  I  could  not.  Then  I  looked  about  to 
see  how  they  got  into  the  river.  And  this  I  could  not 
see,  but  I  saw  myriads  on  this  side,  and  they  too 
worked,  and  I  knew  that  it  was  the  same  work  ;  and 
the  same  seal  was  on  their  foreheads.  And  though  I 
saw  that  there  was  toil  and  anguish  in  the  work  of 
these,  and  that  most  that  were  working  were  blind  and 
feeble,  yet  I  longed  no  more  to  plunge  into  the  river, 
but  more  and  more  to  know  what  the  work  was.  And 
as  I  looked  I  saw  my  mother  and  my  sisters,  and  I  saw 
the  Doctor,  and  you,  Tom.  and  hundreds  more  whom  I 
knew ;  and  at  last  I  saw  myself  too,  and  I  was  toiling 
and  doing  ever  so  little  a  piece  of  the  great  work. 
Then  it  all  melted  away,  and  the  power  left  me,  and  as 
it  left  me  I  thought  I  heard  a  voice  say, '  The  vision  is 
for  an  appointed  time;  though  it  tarry,  wait  for  it,  for 
in  the  end  it  shall  speak  and  not  lie,  it  shall  surely 
come,  it  shall  not  tarry.'  It  was  early  morning  I  know 


376  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

then,  it  was  so  quiet  and  cool,  and  my  mother  was  fast 
asleep  in  the  chair  by  my  bedside ;  but  it  wasn't  only 
a  dream  of  mine.  I  knew  it  wasn't  a  dream.  Then 
I  fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  only  woke  after  afternoon 
chapel ;  and  the  Doctor  came  and  gave  me  the  sacra- 
ment, as  I  told  you.  I  told  him  and  my  mother  I 
should  get  well — I  knew  I  should  ;  but  I  couldn't  tell 
them  why.  Tom,"  said  Arthur,  gently,  after  another 
minute,  u  do  you  see  why  I  could  not  grieve  now  to 
see  my  dearest  friend  die?  It  can't  be — it  isn't,  all 
fever  or  illness.  God  would  never  have  let  me  see  it 
so  clear  if  it  Avasn't  true.  I  don't  understand  it  all 
yet — it  will  take  me  my  life  and  longer  to  do  that — to 
find  out  what  the  work  is." 

When  Arthur  stopped  thei*e  was  a  long  pause.  Tom 
could  not  speak,  he  was  almost  afraid  to  breathe,  lest  he 
should  break  the  train  of  Arthur's  thoughts.  He 
longed  to  hear  more,  and  to  ask  questions.  In  another 
minute  nine  o'clock  struck,  and  a  gentle  tap  at  the 
door  called  them  both  back  into  the  world  again. 
They  did  not  answer,  however,  for  a  moment,  and  so 
the  door  opened  and  a  lady  came  in  carrying  a  candle. 

She  went  straight  to  the  sofa,  and  took  hold  of 
Arthur's  hand,  and  then  stooped  down  and  kissed 
him. 

"  My  dearest  boy,  you  feel  a  little  feverish  again. 
Why  didn't  you  have  lights  ?  You've  talked  too  much 
and  excited  yourself  in  the  dark." 

"  Oh,  no,  mother ;  you  can't  think  how  well  I  feel. 


FEVER   IN   THE  SCHOOL.  377 

I  shall  start  with  YOU  to-morrow  for  Devonshire.  But, 
mother,  here's  my  friend,  here's  Tom  Brown — you 
know  him  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  I've  known  him  for  years,"  she  said, 
and  held  out  her  hand  to  Tom,  who  was  now  standing 
up  behind  the  sofa.  This  was  Arthur's  mother.  Tall 
and  slight  and  fair,  with  masses  of  golden  hair  drawn 
back  from  the  broad  white  forehead,  and  the  calm  blue 
eye  meeting  his  so  deep  and  open — the  eye  that  he 
knew  so  well,  for  it  was  his  friend's  over  again,  and 
the  lovely  tender  mouth  that  trembled  while  he  looked. 
She  stood  there  a  woman  of  thirty-eight,  old  enough  to 
be  his  mother,  and  one  whose  face  showed  the  lines 
which  must  be  written  on  the  faces  of  good  men's  wives 
and  widows — but  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  any- 
thing so  beautiful.  He  couldn't  help  wondering  if 
Arthur's  sisters  were  like  her. 

Tom  held  her  hand,  and  looked  on  straight  in  her 
face ;  he  could  neither  let  it  go  nor  speak. 

"  Now,  Tom/'  said  Arthur,  laughing,  "  where  are 
your  manners  ?  you'll  stare  my  mother  out  of  counte- 
nance." Tom  dropped  the  little  hand  with  a  sigh. 
"  There,  sit  down,  both  of  you.  Here,  dearest  mother, 
there's  room  here ; — "  and  he  made  a  place  on  the  sofa 
for  her.  "  Tom,  you  needn't  go ;  I'm  sure  you  won't 
be  called  up  at  first  lesson."  Tom  felt  that  he  would 
risk  being  floored  at  every  lesson  for  the  rest  of  his 
natural  school-life  sooner  than  go,  so  sat  down. 
"And  now,"  said  Arthur,  "I  have  realized  one  of 


378  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  dearest  wishes  of  my  life — to  see  you  two 
together." 

And  then  he  led  away  the  talk  to  their  home  in 
Devonshire,  and  the  red  bright  earth,  and  the  deep 
green  combes,  and  the  peat  streams  like  cairngorm 
pebbles,  and  the  wild  moor  with  its  high  cloudy  Tors 
for  a  giant  background  to  the  picture — till  Tom  got 
jealous,  and  stood  up  for  the  clear  chalk  streams,  and 
the  emerald  water  meadows  and  great  elms  and  willows 
of  the  dear  old  Royal  county,  as  he  gloried  to  call  it. 
And  the  mother  sat  on  quiet  and  loving,  rejoicing  in 
their  life.  The  quarter-to-ten  struck,  and  the  bell 
rang  for  bed  before  they  had  well  begun  their  talk,  as 
it  seemed. 

Then  Tom  rose  with  a  sigh  to  go. 

"Shall  I  see  you  in  the  morning,  Geordie?"  said 
he,  as  he  shook  his  friend's  hand.  "Never  mind 
though ;  you'll  be  back  next  half,  and  I  shan't  forget 
the  house  of  Rimmon." 

Arthur's  mother  got  up  and  walked  with  him  to  the 
door,  and  there  gave  him  her  hand  again,  and  again 
his  eyes  met  that  deep  loving  look,  which  was  like  a 
spell  upon  him.  Her  voice  trembled  slightly  as  she 
said,  "  Good  night — you  are  one  who  knows  what  our 
Father  has  promised  to  the  friend  of  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless.  May  He  deal  with  you  as  you  have  dealt 
with  me  and  mine  !" 

Tom  was  quite  upset ;  he  mumbled  something  about 
owing  everything  good  in  him  to  Geordie — looked  in 


FEVER  IN   THE  SCHOOL.  379 

her  face  again,  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  rushed 
downstairs  to  his  study,  where  he  sat  till  old  Thomas 
came  kicking"  at  the  door,  to  tell  him  his  allowance 
would  be  stopped  if  he  didn't  go  off  to  bed.  (It 
would  have  been  stopped  anyhow,  but  that  he  was  a 
great  favorite  with  the  old  gentleman,  who  loved  to 
come  out  in  the  afternoons  into  the  close  to  Tom's 
wicket,  and  bowl  slow  twisters  to  him,  and  talk  of  the 
glories  of  bygone  Surrey  heroes,  with  whom  he  had 
played  in  former  generations.)  So  Tom  roused  him- 
self, and  took  up  his  candle  to  go  to  bed ;  and  then  for 
the  first  time  was  aware  of  a  beautiful  new  fishing-rod, 
with  old  Eton's  mark  on  it,  and  a  splendidly  bound 
Bible,  which  lay  on  his  table,  on  the  title-page  cf 
which  was  written — "  TOM  BROWN,  from  his  affection- 
ate and  grateful  friends,  Frances  Jane  Arthur ; 
George  Arthur." 

I  leave  you  all  to  guess  how  he  slept,  and  what  he 
dreamt  of. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES. 

"  The  Holy  Supper  is  kept  indeed, 
In  whatso  we  share  with  another's  need — 
Not  that  which  we  give,  but  what  we  share, 
For  the  gift  without  the  gi\-er  is  bare : 
Who  bestows  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three, 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor,  and  Me." 

The  Vision  of  Sir  Launjal. — LOWELL,  p.  11. 

THE  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Tom,  East,  and 
Gower  met  as  usual  to  learn  their  second  lesson 
together.  Tom  had  been  considering  how  to  break 
his  proposal  of  giving  up  the  crib  to  the  others,  and 
having  found  no  better  way  (as  indeed  none  better 
can  ever  be  found  by  man  or  boy),  told  them  simply 
what  had  happened ;  how  he  had  been  to  see  Arthur, 
who  had  talked  to  him  upon  the  subject,  and  what  he 
had  said,  and  for  his  part  he  had  made  up  his  mind, 
and  wasn't  going  to  use  cribs  any  more :  and  not 
being  quite  sure  of  his  ground,  took  the  high  and 
pathetic  tone,  and  was  proceeding  to  say,  "how  that 
having  learnt  his  lessons  with  them  for  so  many  years, 
it  would  grieve  him  much  to  put  an  end  to  the 
arrangement,  and  he  hoped  at  any  rate  that  if  they 

380 


HAKEY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  381 

wouldn't  go  on  with  him,  they  should  still  be  just  as 
good  friends,  and  respect  one  another's  motives — 
but—" 

Here  the  other  boys,  who  had  been  listening  with 
open  eyes  and  ears,  burst  in — 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !"  cried  Gower.  "  Here,  East, 
get  down  the  crib  and  find  the  place." 

"  Oh,  Tommy,  Tommy  !"  said  East,  proceeding  to 
do  as  he  was  bidden,  "  that  it  should  ever  have  come 
to  this.  I  knew  Arthur'd  be  the  ruin  of  you  some 
day,  and  you  of  me.  And  now  the  time's  come," — 
and  he  made  a  doleful  face. 

"I  don't  know  about  ruin,"  answered  Tom;  "I 
know  that  you  and  I  would  have  had  the  sack  long 
ago,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him.  And  you  know  it  as 
well  as  I." 

"  Well,  we  were  in  a  baddish  way  before  he  came,  I 
own  ;  but  this  new  crotchet  of  his  is  past  a  joke." 

"  Let's  give  it  a  trial,  Harry  ;  come — you  know 
how  often  he  has  been  right  and  we  wrong." 

"Now,  don't  you  two  be  jawing  away  about  young 
Square-toes,"  struck  in  Gower.  "  He's  no  end  of  a 
sucking  wiseacre,  I  dare  say,  but  we've  no  time  to 
lose,  and  I've  got  the  fives'  court  at  half-past  nine." 

"I  say,  Gower,"  said  Tom,  appealingly,  "be  a 
good  fellow,  and  let's  try  if  we  can't  get  on  without 
the  crib." 

"What!  in  this  chorus?  Why,  we  shan't  get 
through  ten  lines." 


382  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"I  say,  Tom,"  cried  East,  having  hit  on  a  new 
idea,  "  don't  you  remember,  when  we  were  in  the 
upper  fourth,  and  old  Mom  us  caught  me  construing 
off  the  leaf  of  a  crib  which  I'd  torn  out  and  put  in 
my  book,  and  which  would  float  out  on  to  the  floor,  he 
sent  me  up  to  be  flogged  for  it  ?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  it  very  well." 

"  Well,  the  Doctor,  after  he'd  flogged  me,  told  me 
himself  that  he  didn't  flog  me  for  using  a  translation, 
but  for  taking  it  into  lesson,  and  using  it  there  Avhen 
I  hadn't  learnt  a  word  before  I  came  in.  He  said 
there  was  no  harm  in  using  a  translation  to  get  a  clue 
to  hard  passages,  if  you  tried  all  you  could  first  to 
make  them  out  without." 

"  Did  he,  though  ?"  said  Tom  ;  "  then  Arthur  must 
be  wrong." 

"Of  course  he  is,"  said  Gower,  "the  little  prig. 
We'll  only  use  the  crib  when  we  can't  construe  with- 
out it.  Go  ahead,  East." 

And  on  this  agreement  they  started :  Tom  satisfied 
with  having  made  his  confession,  and  not  sorry  to 
have  a  locus  pcenitentice,  and  not  to  be  deprived  alto- 
gether of  the  use  of  his  old  and  faithful  friend. 

The  boys  went  on  as  usual,  each  taking  a  sentence 
in  turn,  and  the  crib  being  handed  to  the  one  whose 
turn  it  was  to  construe.  Of  course  Tom  couldn't 
object  to  this,  as,  was  it  not  simply  lying  there  to  be 
appealed  to  in  case  the  sentence  should  prove  too  hard 
altogether  for  the  construer  ?  But  it  must  be  owned 


HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  383 

that  Gower  and  East  did  not  make  very  tremendous 
exertions  to  conquer  their  sentences  before  having  re- 
course to  its  help.  Tom,  however,  with  the  most 
heroic  virtue  and  gallantry  rushed  into  his  sentence, 
searching  in  a  high-minded  manner  for  nominative 
and  verb,  and  turning  over  his  dictionary  frantically 
for  the  first  hard  word  that  stopped  him.  But  in  the 
meantime  Gower,  who  was  bent  on  getting  to  fives, 
would  peep  quietly  into  the  crib,  and  then  suggest, 
"Don't  you  think  this  is  the  meaning?"  "I  think 
you  must  take  it  this  way,  Brown ;"  and  as  Tom 
didn't  see  his  way  to  not  profiting  by  these  sugges- 
tions, the  lesson  went  on  about  as  quickly  as  usual, 
and  Gower  was  able  to  start  for  the  fives'  court  within 
five  minutes  of  the  half-hour. 

When  Tom  and  East  were  left  face  to  face  they 
looked  at  one  another  for  a  minute,  Tom  puzzled,  and 
East  chock-full  of  fun,  and  then  burst  into  a  roar  of 
laughter. 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  East,  recovering  himself,  "I 
don't  see  any  objection  to  the  new  way.  It's  about  as 
good  as  the  old  one,  I  think  ;  besides  the  advantage  it 
gives  one  of  feeling  virtuous,  and  looking  down  on 
one's  neighbors." 

Tom  shoved  his  hand  into  his  back  hair.  "  I  ain't 
so  sure,"  said  he  ;  "  you  two  fellows  carried  me  off  my 
legs :  I  don't  think  we  really  tried  one  sentence  fairly. 
Are  you  sure  you  remember  what  the  Doctor  said  to 
you  ?" 


384  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Yes.  And  I'll  swear  I  couldn't  make  out  one  of 
my  sentences  to-day.  No,  nor  ever  could.  I  really 
don't  remember,"  said  East,  speaking  slowly  and  im- 
pressively, "  to  have  come  across  one  Latin  or  Greek 
sentence  this  half,  that  I  could  go  and  construe  by  the 
light  of  nature.  Whereby  I  am  sure  Providence  in- 
tended cribs  to  be  used." 

"  The  thing  to  find  out,"  said  Tom  meditatively, 
"  is  how  long  one  ought  to  grind  at  a  sentence  with- 
out looking  at  the  crib.  Now  I  think  if  one  fairly 
looks  out  the  words  one  don't  know,  and  then  can't 
hit  it,  that's  enough." 

"To  be  sure,  Tommy,"  said  East  demurely,  but 
with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  Your  new  doc- 
trine too,  old  fellow,"  added  he,  "when  one  comes  to 
think  of  it,  is  a  cutting  at  the  root  of  all  school  moral- 
ity. You'll  take  away  mutual  help,  brotherly  love, 
or  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  giving  construes,  which  I  hold 
to  be  one  of  our  highest  virtues.  For  how  can  you 
distinguish  between  getting  a  construe  from  another 
boy,  and  using  a  crib  ?  Hang  it,  Tom,  if  you're 
going  to  deprive  all  our  school-fellows  of  the  chance 
of  exercising  Christian  benevolence  and  being  .good 
Samaritans,  I  shall  cut  the  concern." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  joke  about  it,  Harry;  it's 
hard  enough  to  see  one's  way,  a  precious  sight  harder 
than  I  thought  last  night.  But  I  suppose  there's 
a  use  and  an  abuse  of  both,  and  one'll  get  straight 
enough  somehow.  But  you  can't  make  out  anyhow 


HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  385 

that  one  has  a  right  to  use  old  vulgus-books  and 
copy-books." 

"  Hullo,  more  heresy !  how  fast  a  fellow  goes  down 
hill  when  he  once  gets  his  head  before  his  legs.  Lis- 
ten to  me,  Tom.  Not  use  old  vulgus-books  ? — why, 
you  Goth  !  ain't  we  to  take  the  benefit  of  the  wis- 
dom, and  admire  and  use  the  work  of  past  genera- 
tions ?  Not  use  old  copy-books!  "\Yliy  you  might 
as  well  say  we  ought  to  pull  down  Westminster  Abbey, 
and  put  up  a  go-to-meeting-shop  with  churchwarden 
windows ;  or  never  read  Shakespeare,  but  only  Sheri- 
dan Knowles.  Think  of  all  the  work  and  labor  that 
our  predecessors  have  bestowed  on  these  very  books ; 
and  are  we  to  make  their  work  of  no  value?" 

"I  say,  Harry,  please  don't  chaff;  I'm  really 
serious." 

"  And  then,  is  it  not  our  duty  to  consult  the  pleas- 
ure of  others  rather  than  our  own,  and  above  all  that 
of  our  masters  ?  Fancy  then  the  difference  to  them 
in  looking  over  a  vulgus  which  has  been  carefully 
touched  and  retouched  by  themselves  and  others,  and 
which  must  bring  them  a  sort  of  dreamy  pleasure,  as 
if  they'd  met  the  thought  or  expression  of  it  some- 
where or  another — before  they  were  born  perhaps ; 
and  that  of  cutting  up,  and  making  picture-frames 
round  all  your  and  my  false  quantities,  and  other 
monstrosities.  Why,  Tom,  you  wouldn't  be  so  cruel  as 
never  to  let  old  Momus  hum  over  the  '  0  genus  hu- 
manum,'  again,  and  then  look  up  doubtingly  through 

25 


386  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

his  spectacles,  and  end  by  smiling  and  giving  three 
extra  marks  for  it:  just  for  old  sake's  sake,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Well,"  said  Tom,  getting  up  in  something  as  like  a 
huff  as  he  was  capable  of,  "  it's  deuced  hard  that  when 
a  fellow's  really  trying  to  do  what  he  ought,  his  best 
friends'll  do  nothing  but  chaff  him  and  try  to  put  him 
down."  And  he  stuck  his  books  under  his  arm  and 
his  hat  on  his  head,  preparatory  to  rushing  out  into 
the  quadrangle,  to  testify  with  his  own  soul  of  the 
faithlessness  of  friendships. 

"Now  don't  be  an  ass,  Tom,"  said  East,  catching 
hold  of  him,  "  you  know  me  well  enough  by  this 
time;  my  bark's  worse  than  my  bite.  You  can't 
expect  to  ride  your  new  crotchet  without  anybody's 
trying  to  stick  a  nettle  under  his  tail  and  make  him 
kick  you  off:  especially  as  we  shall  all  have  to  go 
on  foot  still.  But  now  sit  down  and  let's  go  over  it 
again.  I'll  be  as  serious  as  a  judge." 

Then  Tom  sat  himself  down  on  the  table,  and 
waxed  eloquent  about  all  the  righteousness  and  ad- 
vantages of  the  new  plan,  as  was  his  wont  when- 
ever he  took  up  anything ;  going  into  it  as  if  his  life 
depended  upon  it,  and  sparing  no  abuse  which  he 
could  think  of  of  the  opposite  method,  which  he 
denounced  as  ungentlemanly,  cowardly,  mean,  lying, 
and  no  one  knows  what  besides.  "  Very  cool  of  Tom," 
as  East  thought,  but  didn't  say,  "  seeing  as  how  he  only 
came  out  of  Egypt  himself  last  night  at  bed-time." 


HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AXD  DELIVERANCES.  387 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  he  at  last,  "you  see,  when  you 
and  I  came  to  school  there  "were  none  of  these  sort 
of  notions.  You  may  be  right — I  dare  say  you  are. 
Only  what  one  has  always  fc4t  about  the  masters  is 
that  it's  a  fair  trial  of  skill  and  last  between  us  and 
them — like  a  match  at  football,  or  a  battle.  We're 
natural  enemies  in  school,  that's  the  fact.  We've  got 
to  learn  so  much  Latin  and  Greek  and  do  so  many 
verses,  and  they've  got  to  see  that  Ave  do  it.  If  we 
can  slip  the  collar  and  do  so  much  less  without  get- 
ting caught,  that's  one  to  us.  If  they  can  get  more 
out  of  us,  or  catch  us  shirking,  that's  one  to  them. 
All's  fair  in  war,  but  lying.  If  I  run  my  luck  against 
their's,  and  go  into  school  without  looking  at  my  les- 
sons, and  don't  get  called  up,  why  am  I  a  snob  or  a 
sneak?  I  don't  tell  the  master  I've  learnt  it.  He's 
got  to  find  out  whether  I  have  or  not,  what's  he  paid 
for?  If  he  calls  me  up,  and  I  get  floored,  he  makes 
me  write  it  out  in  Greek  and  English.  Very  good, 
he's  caught  me,  and  I  don't  grumble.  I  grant  you, 
if  I  go  and  snivel  to  him,  and  tell  him  I've  really 
tried  to  learn  it  but  found  it  so  hard  without  a  trans- 
lation, or  say  I've  had  a  toothache,  or  any  humbug 
of  that  kind,  I'm  a  snob.  That's  my  school  moral- 
ity ;  it's  served  me — and  you  too,  Tom,  for  the  matter 
of  that — these  five  years.  And  it's  all  clear  and  fair, 
no  mistake  about  it.  We  understand  it.  and  they 
understand  it,  and  I  don't  know  what  we're  to  come 
to  with  any  other. 


388  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Tom  looked  at  him  pleased,  and  a  little  puzzled. 
He  had  never  heard  East  speak  his  mind  seriously 
before,  and  couldn't  help  feeling  how  completely  he 
had  hit  his  own  theory  and  practice  up  to  that  time. 

"Thank  you,  old  fellow,"  said  he.  "You're  a 
good  old  brick  to  be  serious,  and  not  put  out  with 
me.  I  said  more  than  I  meant,  I  dare  say,  only  you 
see  I  know  I'm  right :  whatever  you  and  Gower  and 
the  rest  do,  I  shall  hold  on — I  must.  And  as  it's  all 
new  and  an  up-hill  game,  you  see,  one  must  hit  hard 
and  hold  on  tight  at  first." 

"Very  good,"  said  East;  "hold  on  and  hit  away, 
only  don't  hit  under  the  line." 

"  But  I  must  bring  you  over,  Harry,  or  I  shan't 
be  comfortable.  Now,  I  allow  all  you've  said.  We've 
always  been  honorable  enemies  with  the  masters.  We 
found  a  state  of  war  when  we  came,  and  went  into  it 
of  course.  Only  don't  you  think  things  are  altered 
a  good  deal  ?  I  don't  feel  as  I  used  to  the  masters. 
They  seem  to  me  to  treat  one  quite  differently. " 

"Yes,  perhaps  they  do,"  said  East;  "there's  a 
new  set,  you  see,  mostly,  who  don't  feel  sure  of  them- 
selves yet.  They  don't  want  to  fight  till  they  know 
the  ground." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  only  that,"  said  Tom.  "  And  then 
the  Doctor,  he  does  treat  one  so  openly,  and  like  a  gen- 
tleman, and  as  if  one  was  working  with  him." 

"Well,  so  he  does,"  said  East;  "he's  a  splendid 
fellow,  and  when  I  get  into  the  sixth  I  shall  act 


HAKRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  389 

accordingly.  Only  you  know  lie  has  nothing  to  do 
with  our  lessons  now,  except  examining  us.  I  say, 
though,"  looking  at  his  watch,  "it's  just  the  quarter. 
Come  along." 

As  they  walked  out  they  got  a  message  to  say,  "  that 
Arthur  was  just  starting  and  would  like  to  say  good- 
bye ;  "  so  they  went  down  to  the  private  entrance  of  the 
School-house,  and  found  an  open  carriage,  with  Arthur 
propped  up  with  pillows  in  it,  looking  already  better, 
Tom  thought. 

They  jumped  up  on  to  the  steps  to  shake  hands  with 
him,  and  Tom  mumbled  thanks  for  the  presents  he  had 
found  in  his  study,  and  looked  round  anxiously  for 
Arthur's  mother. 

East,  who  had  fallen  back  into  his  usual  humor 
looked  quaintly  at  Arthur,  and  said — 

"  So  you've  been  at  it  again,  through  that  hot-headed 
convert  of  yours  there.  He's  been  making  our  lives 
a  burthen  to  us  all  the  morning  about  using  cribs.  I 

o  o 

shall  get  floored  to  a  certainty  at  second  lesson,  if  I'm 

called  up." 

Arthur  blushed  and  looked  down.     Tom  struck  in — 
"  Oh,   it's  all  right.     He's  converted  already ;    he 

always  comes  through  the  mud  after  us,  grumbling  and 

sputtering." 

The  clock  struck,  and  they  had  to  go  off  to  school, 

wishing  Arthur  a    pleasant  holiday ;    Tom  lingering 

behind   a    moment    to  send    his    thanks  and  love  to 

Arthur's  mother. 


390  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Tom  renewed  the  discussion  after  second  lesson,  and 
succeeded  so  far  as  to  get  East  to  promise  to  give  the 
new  plan  a  fair  trial. 

Encouraged  by  his  success,  in  the  evening,  when 
they  were  sitting  alone  in  the  large  study,  where  East 
lived  now  almost,  "vice  Arthur  on  leave,"  after  ex- 
amining the  new  fishing-rod,  which  both  pronounced 
to  be  the  genuine  article,  ("  play  enough  to  throw  a 
midge  tied  on  a  single  hair  against  the  wind,  and 
strength  enough  to  hold  a  grampus,")  they  naturally 
began  talking  about  Arthur.  Tom,  who  was  still 
bubbling  over  with  last  night's  scene,  and  all  the 
thoughts  of  the  last  week,  and  wanting  to  clinch  and 
fix  the  whole  in  his  own  mind,  which  he  could  never 
do  without  first  going  through  the  process  of  belabor- 
ing somebody  else  with  it  all,  suddenly  rushed  into  the 
subject  of  Arthur's  illness,  and  what  he  had  said 
about  death. , 

East  had  given  him  the  desired  opening :  after  a 
serio-comic  grumble,  "  that  life  wasn't  worth  having 
now  they  were  tied  to  a  young  beggar  who  was  always 
'  raising  his  standard ; '  and  that  he,  East,  was  like  a 
prophet's  donkey,  who  was  obliged  to  struggle  on  after 
the  donkey-man  who  went  after  the  prophet ;  that  he 
had  none  of  the  pleasure  of  starting  the  new  crotchets, 
and  didn't  half  understand  them,  but  had  to  take  the 
kicks  and  carry  the  luggage  as  if  he  had  all  the  fun" — 
he  threw  his  legs  up  on  the  sofa,  and  put  his  hands 
behind  his  head,  and  said — 


HARRY  EASPS  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  391 

"  Well,  after  all,  he's  the  most  wonderful  little  fellow 
I  ever  came  across.  There  ain't  such  a  meek,  humble 
boy  in  the  School.  Hanged  if  I  don't  think  now 
really,  Tom,  that  he  believes  himself  a  much  worse 
fellow  than  you  or  I,  and  that  he  don't  think  he  has 
more  influence  in  the  house  than  Dot  Bowles,  who 
came  last  quarter,  and  ain't  ten  yet.  But  he  turns  you 
and  me  round  his  little  finger,  old  boy — there's  no  mis- 
take about  that. "  And  East  nodded  at  Tom  sagaciously. 

"  Now  or  never !"  thought  Tom  ;  so  shutting  his 
eyes  and  hardening  his  heart,  he  went  straight  at  it, 
repeating  all  that  Arthur  had  said,  as  near  as  he  could 
remember  it.  in  the  very  words,  and  all  he  had  himself 
thought.  The  life  seemed  to  ooze  out  of  it  as  he  went 
on,  and  several  times  he  felt  inclined  to  stop,  give  it  all 
up,  and  change  the  subject.  But  somehow  he  was 
borne  on ;  he  had  a  necessity  upon  him  to  speak  it  all 
out.  and  did  so.  At  the  end  he  looked  at  East  with 
some  anxiety,  and  was  delighted  to  see  that  that  young 
gentleman  was  thoughtful  and  attentive.  The  fact  is, 
that  in  the  stage  of  his  inner  life  at  which  Tom  had 
lately  arrived,  his  intimacy  with  and  friendship  for 
East  could  not  have  lasted  if  he  had  not  made  him 
aware  of,  and  a  sharer  in,  the  thoughts  that  wero 
beginning  to  exercise  him.  Nor  indeed  could  ths 
friendship  have  lasted  if  East  had  shown  no  sympathy 
with  these  thoughts ;  so  that  it  was  a  great  relief  to 
have  unbosomed  himself,  and  to  have  found  that  his 
friend  could  listen. 


392  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Tom  had  always  had  a  sort  of  instinct  that  East's 
levity  was  only  skin-deep ;  and  this  instinct  was  a  true 
one.  East  had  no  want  of  reverence  for  anything  he 
felt  to  be  real :  but  his  was  one  of  those  natures  that 
burst  into  what  is  generally  called  recklessness  and 
impiety  the  moment  they  feel  that  anything  is  being 
poured  upon  them  for  their  good,  which  does  not  come 
home  to  their  inborn  sense  of  right,  or  which  appeals 
to  anything  like  self-interest  in  them.  Daring  and 
honest  by  nature,  and  outspoken  to  an  extent  which 
alarmed  all  respectabilities,  with  a  constant  fund  of 
animal  health  and  spirits  which  he  did  not  feel  bound 
to  curb  in  any  way,  he  had  gained  for  himself  with 
the  steady  part  of  the  School  (including  as  well  those 
who  wished  to  appear  steady  as  those  who  really  were 
so),  the  character  of  a  boy  whom  it  would  be  danger- 
ous to  be  intimate  with  ;  while  his  own  hatred  of 
everything  cruel,  or  underhand,  or  false,  and  his  hearty 
respect  for  what  he  could  see  to  be  good  and  true,  kept 
off  the  rest. 

Tom,  besides  being  very  like  East  in  many  points  of 
character,  had  largely  developed  in  his  composition 
the  capacity  for  taking  the  weakest  side.  This  is  not 
putting  it  strongly  enough  ;  it  was  a  necessity  with  him  ; 
he  couldn't  help  it  any  more  than  he  could  eating  or 
drinking.  He  could  never  play  on  the  strongest  side 
with  any  heart  at  foot-ball  or  cricket,  and  was  sure  to 
make  friends  with  any  boy  who  was  unpopular,  or  down 
on  his  luck. 


HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  393 

Now  though  East  was  not  what  is  generally  called 
unpopular,  Tom  felt  more  and  more  every  day,  as  their 
characters  developed,  that  he  stood  alone,  and  did  not 
make  friends  among  their  contemporaries,  and  therefore 
sought  him  out.  Tom  was  himself  much  more  popular, 
for  his  power  of  detecting  humbug  was  much  less  acute, 
and  his  instincts  were  much  more  sociable.  He  was  at 
this  period  of  his  life,  too,  largely  given  to  taking 
people  for  what  they  gave  themselves  out  to  be ;  but 
his  singleness  of  heart,  fearlessness  and  honesty  were 
just  Avhat  East  appreciated,  and  thus  the  two  had  been 
drawn  into  greater  intimacy. 

This  intimacy  had  not  been  interrupted  by  Tom's 
guardianship  of  Arthur. 

East  had  often,  as  has  been  said,  joined  them  in 
reading  the  Bible  ;  but  their  discussions  had  almost 
always  turned  upon  the  characters  of  the  men  and 
women  of  whom  they  read,  and  not  become  personal  to 
themselves.  In  fact,  the  two  had  shrunk  from  personal 
religious  discussion,  not  knowing  how  it  might  end ; 
and  fearful  of  risking  a  friendship  very  dear  to  both, 
and  which  they  felt  somehow,  without  quite  knowing 
why,  Avould  never  be  the  same,  but  either  tenfold 
stronger  or  sapped  at  its  foundation,  after  such  a  com- 
muning together. 

What  a  bother  all  this  explaining  is  !  I  wish  we 
could  get  on  without  it.  But  we  can't.  However, 
you'll  all  find,  if  you  haven't  found  it  out  already,  that 
a  time  comes  in  every  human  friendship,  when  you 


394  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

must  go  down  into  the  depths  of  yourself,  and  lay  bare 
what  is  there  to  your  friend,  and  wait  in  fear  of  his 
answer.  A  few  moments  may  do  it ;  and  it  may  be 
(most  likely  will  be,  as  you  are  English  boys)  that  you 
never  do  it  but  once.  But  done  it  must  be,  if  the 
friendship  is  to  be  worth  the  name.  You  must  find 
what  is  there,  at  the  very  root  and  bottom  of  one 
another's  hearts  ;  and  if  you  are  at  once  there,  nothing 
on  earth  can,  or  at  least  ought  to  sunder  you. 

East  had  remained  lying  down  until  Tom  finished 
speaking,  as  if  fearing  to  interrupt  him  ;  he  now  sat  up 
at  the  table,  and  leant  his  head  on  one  hand,  taking  up 
a  pencil  with  the  other,  and  working  little  holes  with  it 
in  the  table-cover.  After  a  bit  he  looked  up,  stopped 
the  pencil,  and  said,  "  Thank  you  very  much,  old  fel- 
low ;  there's  no  other  boy  in  the  house  would  have 
done  it  for  me  but  you  or  Arthur.  I  can  see  well 
enough,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause,  "all  the  best  big 
fellows  look  on  me  with  suspicion;  they  think  I'm  a 
devil-may-care,  reckless  young  scamp.  So  I  am — 
eleven  hours  out  of  twelve — but  not  the  twelfth.  Then 
all  of  our  contemporaries  worth  knowing  follow  suit,  of 
course ;  we're  very  good  friends  at  games  and  all  that, 
but  not  a  soul  of  them  but  you  and  Arthur  ever  tried 
to  break  through  the  crust,  and  see  whether  there  was 
anything  at  the  bottom  of  me ;  and  then  the  bad  ones 
I  won't  stand,  and  they  know  that." 

"  Don't  you  think  that's  half  fancy,  H&rry  ?" 
"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  East  bitterly,  pegging  away 


HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  395 

with  his  pencil.  "  I  see  it  all  plain  enough.  Bless 
you,  you  think  everybody's  as  straightforward  and 
kind-hearted  as  you  are." 

"  Well,  but  what's  the  reason  of  it  ?  There  must 
be  a  reason.  You  can  play  all  the  games  as  well  as 
any  one,  and  sing  the  best  song,  and  are  the  best  com- 
pany in  the  house.  You  fancy  you're  not  liked,  Harry. 
It's  all  fancy." 

"  I  only  wish  it  was,  Tom.  I  know  I  could  be 
popular  enough  with  all  the  bad  ones,  but  that  I  won't 
have,  and  the  good  ones  won't  have  me." 

"Why  not?"  persisted  Tom  ;  "  you  don't  drink  or 
swear,  or  get  out  at  night ;  you  never  bully,  or  cheat 
at  lessons.  If  you  only  showed  you  liked  it,  you'd  have 
all  the  best  fellows  in  the  house  running  after  you." 

"Not  I,"  said  East.  Then  with  an  effort  he  went 
on,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  I  never  stop  the  Sacra- 
ment. I  can  see,  from  the  Doctor  downwards,  how 
that  tells  against  me." 

"Yes,  I've  seen  that,"  said  Tom,  "and  I've  been 
very  sorry  for  it,  and  Arthur  and  I  have  talked  about 
it.  I've  often  thought  of  speaking  to  you,  but  it's  so 
hard  to  begin  on  such  subjects.  I'm  very  glad  you've 
opened  it.  Now,  why  don't  you  ?" 

"I've  never  been  confirmed,"  said  East. 

"Not  been  confirmed  !"  said  Tom  in  astonishment. 
"  I  never  thought  of  that.  Why  weren't  you  confirmed 
with  the  rest  of  us  nearly  three  years  ago  ?  I  always 
thought  you'd  been  confirmed  at  home." 


396  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"No,"  answered  East  sorrowfully;  "you  see  this 
was  how  it  happened.  Last  Confirmation  was  soon 
after  Arthur  came,  and  you  were  so  taken  up  with  him, 
I  hardly  saw  either  of  you.  Well,  when  the  Doctor 
sent  round  for  us  about  it,  I  Avas  living  mostly  with 
Green's  set — you  know  the  sort.  They  all  went  in — I 
dare  say  it  was  all  right,  and  they  got  good  by  it ;  I 
don't  want  to  judge  them.  Only  all  I  could  see  of 
their  reasons  drove  me  just  the  other  way.  'Twas 
'  because  the  Doctor  liked  it ;'  '  no  boy  got  on  who 
didn't  stay  the  Sacrament ;'  '  it  was  the  correct  thing,' 
in  fact,  like  having  a  good  hat  to  wear  on  Sundays.  I 
couldn't  stand  it.  I  didn't  feel  that  I  wanted  to  lead  a 
different  life,  I  was  very  well  content  as  I  was,  and  I 
wasn't  going  to  sham  religious  to  curry  favor  with  the 
Doctor,  or  any  one  else." 

East  stopped  speaking,  and  pegged  away  more  dil- 
igently than  ever  with  his  pencil.  Tom  was  ready  to 
cry.  He  felt  half  sorry  at  first  that  he  had  been  con- 
firmed himself.  He  seemed  to  have  deserted 
his  earliest  friend,  to  have  left  him  by  himself  at  his 
Avorst  need  for  these  long  years.  He  gat  up  and 
Avent  and  sat  by  East  and  put  his  arm  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Dear  old  boy,"  he  said,  "  hoAV  careless  and  selfish 
I've  been.  But  why  didn't  you  come  and  talk  to  Ar- 
thur and  me?" 

"  I  Avish  to  heaven  I  had,"  said  East,  "  but  I  Avas  a 
fool.  It's  too  late  talking;  of  it  noAV." 


HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  397 

"  Why  too  late  ?  You  want  to  be  confirmed  now, 
don't  you  ?" 

"  I  think  so,"  said  East.  "  I've  thought  about  it  a 
good  deal ;  only  often  I  fancy  I  must  be  changing,  be- 
cause I  see  it's  to  do  me  good  here,  just  what  stopped 
me  last  time.  And  then  I  go  back  again." 

"  I'll  tell  you  now  how  'twas  with  me,"  said  Tom 

«/ 

warmly.  "  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Arthur,  I  should  have 
clone  just  as  you  did.  I  hope  I  should.  I  honor  you 
for  it.  But  then  he  made  it  out  just  as  if  it  was 
taking  the  weak  side  before  all  the  world — 
going  in  once  for  all  against  everything  that's  strong 
and  rich  and  proud  and  respectable,  a  little  band 
of  brothers  against  the  whole  world.  And  the  Doctor 
seemed  to  say  so  too,  only  he  said  a  great  deal 
more" 

"Ah!"  groaned  East,  "but  there  again,  that's  just 
another  of  my  difficulties  whenever  I  think  about  the 
matter.  I  don't  want  to  be  one  of  your  saints,  one  of 
your  elect,  whatever  the  right  phrase  is.  My  sympa- 
thies are  all  the  other  way  ;  with  the  many,  the  poor 
devils  who  run  about  the  streets  and  don't  go  to 
church.  Don't  stare,  Tom  ;  mind,  I'm  telling  you  all 
that's  in  my  heart — as  far  as  I  know  it — but  it's  all  a 
muddle.  You  must  be  gentle  with  me  if  you  want  to 
land  me.  Xow  I've  seen  a  deal  of  this  sort  of  religion  ; 
I  was  bred  up  in  it,  and  I  can't  stand  it.  If  nineteen- 
twentieths  of  the  world  are  to  be  left  to  uncovenanted 
mercies,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  which  means  in  plain 


398  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

English  to  go  to  hell,  and  the  other  twentieth  are  to 
rejoice  at  it  all,  why " 

"  Oh  !  but,  Harry,  they  ain't,  they  don't,"  broke  in 
Tom,  really  shocked.  "  Oh,  how  I  wish  Arthur  hadn't 
gone !  I'm  such  a  fool  about  these  things.  But  it's 
all  you  want  too,  East ;  it  is  indeed.  It  cuts  both 
ways  somehow,  being  confirmed  and  taking  the  Sacra- 
ment. It  makes  you  feel  on  the  side  of  all  the  good 
and  all  the  bad  too,  of  everybody  in  the  world.  Only 
there's  some  great  dark  strong  power,  which  is  crush- 
ing you  and  everybody  else.  That's  what  Christ  con- 
quered, and  we've  got  to  fight.  What  a  fool  I  am  !  I 
can't  explain.  If  Arthur  were  only  here  !" 

"  I  begin  to  get  a  glimmering  of  what  you  mean," 
said  East. 

"  I  say  now,"  said  Tom  eagerly,  "  do  you  remember 
how  we  both  hated  Flashman  ?" 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  East;  "I  hate  him  still. 
What  then?" 

"  Well,  when  I  came  to  take  the  Sacrament,  I  had 
a  great  struggle  about  that.  I  tried  to  put  him  out  of 
my  head  ;  and  when  I  couldn't  do  that,  I  tried  to  think 
of  him  as  evil,  as  something  that  the  Lord  who  was 
loving  me  hated,  and  which  I  might  hate  too.  But  it 
wouldn't  do.  I  broke  down  :  I  believe  Christ  himself 
broke  me  down  ;  and  when  the  Doctor  gave  me  the 
bread  and  wine,  and  leant  over  me  praying,  I  prayed 
for  poor  Flashman,  as  if  it  had  been  you  or  Arthur." 

East  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  on  the  table.    Tom 


HARRY  EASTS  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  399 

could  feel  the  table  tremble.  At  last  he  looked  up, 
"  Thank  you  again,  Tom,"  said  he;  "you  don't  know 
what  you  may  have  done  for  me  to  night.  I  think  I 
see  now  how  the  right  sort  of  sympathy  with  poor 
devils  is  got  at." 

"  And  you'll  stop  the  Sacrament  next  time,  won't 
you?"  said  Tom. 

"  Can  I,  before  I'm  confirmed  ?" 

"  Go  and  ask  the  Doctor." 

"I  will." 

That  very  night,  after  prayers,  East  followed  the 
Doctor  and  the  old  Verger  hearing  the  candle,  up- 
stairs. Tom  watched,  and  saw  the  Doctor  turn  round 
when  he  heard  footsteps  following  him  closer  than 
usual,  and  say,  "  Hah,  East !  Do  you  want  to  speak 
with  me,  my  man  ?" 

"If  you  please,  sir;"  and  the  private  door  closed 
and  Tom  went  to  his  study  in  a  state  of  great  trouble 
of  mind. 

It  was  almost  an  hour  before  East  came  back  :  then 
he  rushed  in  breathless. 

"  Well,  it's  all  right,"  he  shouted,  seizing  Tom  by 
the  hand.  "I  feel  as  if  a  ton-weight  were  off  my 
mind." 

"Hurra,"  said  Tom.  "I  knew  it  would  be;  but 
tell  us  all  about  it?" 

"  Well,  I  just  told  him  all  .about  it.  You  can't 
think  how  kind  and  gentle  he  was,  the  great  grim 
man,  whom  I've  feared  more  than  anybody  on  earth. 


400  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

When  I  stuck,  he  lifted  me,  just  as  if  I  had  been  a 
little  child.  And  he  seemed  to  know  all  I'd  felt,  and 
to  have  gone  through  it  all.  And  I  burst  out  crying 
— more  than  I've  done  this  five  years;  and  he  sat 
down  by  me,  and  stroked  my  head ;  and  I  Avent  blun- 
dering on,  and  told  him  all ;  much  worse  things  than 
I've  told  you.  And  he  wasn't  shocked  a  bit,  and 
didn't  snub  me,  or  tell  me  I  was  a  fool,  and  it  was  all 
nothing  but  pride  or  wickedness,  though  I  dare  say  it 
was.  And  he  didn't  tell  me  not  to  follow  out  my 
thoughts,  and  he  didn't  give  me  any  cut-and-dried  ex- 
planation. But  when  I'd  done  he  just  talked  a  bit — 
I  can  hardly  remember  what  he  said  yet;  but  it 
seemed  to  spread  round  me  like  healing,  and  strength, 
and  light ;  and  to  bear  me  up,  and  plant  me  on  a  rock, 
where  I  could  hold  my  footing,  and  fight  for  myself. 
I  don't  know  what  to  do,  I  feel  so  happy.  And  it's  all 
owing  to  you,  dear  old  boy !"  and  he  seized  Tom's 
hand  again. 

"And  you're  to  come  to    the  communion?"    said 
Tom. 

"  Yes,  and  to  be  confirmed  in  the  holidays." 
Tom's  delight  was  as  great  as  his  friend's.  But  he 
hadn't  yet  had  out  all  his  own  talk,  and  was  bent  on 
improving  the  occasion :  so  he  proceeded  to  propound 
Arthur's  theory  about  not  being  sorry  for  his  friends' 
deaths,  which  he  had  hitherto  kept  in  the  background, 
and  by  which  he  was  much  exercised ;  for  he  didn't 
feel  it  honest  to  take  what  pleased  him  and  threw  over 


HARRY  EAST'S  DILEMMAS  AND  DELIVERANCES.  401 

the  rest,  and  was  trying  vigorously  to  persuade  him- 
self that  he  should  like  all  his  best  friends  to  die  off- 
hand. 

But  East's  powers  of  remaining  serious  were  ex- 
hausted, and  in  five  minutes  he  was  saying  the  most 
ridiculous  things  he  could  think  of,  till  Tom  was 
almost  getting  angry  again. 

Despite  of  himself,  however,  he  couldn't  help  laugh- 
ing and  giving  it  up,  when  East  appealed  to  him  with 
"  Well,  Tom,  you  ain't  going  to  punch  my  head,  I 
hope,  because  I  insist  upon  being  sorry  when  you  got 
to  earth?" 

And  so  their  talk  finished  for  that  time,  and  they 
tried  to  learn  first  lesson  ;  with  very  poor  success,  as 
appeared  next  morning,  when  they  were  called  up  and 
narrowly  escaped  being  floored,  which  ill-luck,  how- 
ever, did  not  sit  heavily  on  either  of  their  souls. 

26 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH. 

"Heaven  grant  the  manlier  heart,  that  timely,  ere 
Youth  fly,  with  life's  real  tempest  would  be  coping ; 
The  fruit  of  dreamy  hoping 
Is,  waking,  blank  despair." 

CLOUGH,  Ambarvalia. 

THE  curtain  now  rises  upon  the  last  act  of  our  little 
drama — for  hard-hearted  publishers  warn  me  that  a 
single  volume  must  of  necessity  have  an  end.  Well, 
well !  the  pleasantest  things  must  come  to  an  end.  I 
little  thought  last  long  vacation,  when  I  began  these 
pages  to  help  while  away  some  spare  time  at  a  water- 
ing-place, how  vividly  many  an  old  scene,  which  had 
lain  hid  away  for  years  in  some  dusty  old  corner  of  my 
brain,  would  come  back  again,  and  stand  before  me  as 
clear  and  bright  as  if  it  had  happened  yesterday.  The 
book  has  been  a  most  grateful  task  to  me,  and  I  only 
hope  that  all  you,  my  dear  young  friends  who  read  it, 
(friends  assuredly  you  must  be,  if  you  get  as  far  as 
this,)  will  be  half  as  sorry  to  come  to  the  last  stage  as 
I  am. 

Not  but  what  there  has  been  a  solemn  and  a  sad 
side  to  it.  As  the  old  scenes  became  living,  and  the 

402 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  403 

actors  in  them  became  living  too,  many  a  grave  in  the 
Crimea  and  distant  India,  as  well  as  in  the  quiet 
churchyard  of  our  dear  old  country,  seemed  to  open 
and  send  forth  their  dead,  and  their  voices  and  looks 
and  ways  were  again  in  one's  ears  and  eyes,  as  in  the 
old  school-days.  But  this  was  not  sad ;  how  should 
it  be,  if  we  believe  as  our  Lord  has  taught  us  ?  How 
should  it  be,  when,  one  more  turn  of  the  wheel,  and  we 
shall  be  by  their  sides  again,  learning  from  them  again, 
perhaps,  as  we  did  when  we  were  new  boys? 

Then  there  were  others  of  the  old  faces  so  dear  to 
us  once,  who  had  somehow  or  another  just  gone  clean 
out  of  sight — are  they  dead  or  living  ?  We  know  not ; 
but  the  thought  of  them  brings  no  sadness  with  it. 
Wherever  they  are,  we  can  well  believe  they  are  doing 
God's  work  and  getting  His  wages. 

But  are  there  not  some,  whom  we  still  see  some- 
times in  the  street,  whose  haunts  and  homes  we  know, 
whom  we  could  probably  find  almost  any  day  in  the 
week  if  we  were  set  to  do  it,  yet  from  whom  we  are 
really  farther  than  we  are  from  the  dead,  and  from 
those  who  have  gone  out  of  our  ken  ?  Yes,  there  are 
and  must  be  such  :  and  therein  lies  the  sadness  of  old 
School  memories.  Yet  of  these  our  old  comrades,  from 
whom  more  than  time  and  space  separate  us,  there  are 
some,  by  whose  sides  we  can  feel  sure  that  we  shall 
stand  again  when  time  shall  be  no  more.  We  may 
think  of  one  another  now  as  dangerous  fanatics  or 
narrow  bigots,  with  whom  no  truce  is  possible,  from 


404  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

whom  we  shall  only  sever  more  and  more  to  the  end  of 
our  lives,  whom  it  would  be  our  respective  duties  to 
imprison  or  hang,  if  we  had  the  power.  We  must  go 
our  way,  and  they  theirs,  as  long  as  flesh  and  spirit 
hold  together  ;  but  let  our  own  Rugby  poet  speak 
words  of  healing  for  this  trial : — 

"To  veer  how  vain !  on,  onward  strain, 

Brave  barks !  in  light,  in  darkness  too ; 
Through  winds  and  tides  one  compass  guides. 
To  that,  and  your  own  selves,  be  true. 

But,  O  blithe  breeze  !  and  O  great  seas! 

Though  ne'er  that  earliest  parting  past, 
On  your  wide  plain  they  join  again, 

Together  lead  them  home  at  last. 

"  One  port,  methought,  alike  they  sought, 
One  purpose  hold  where'er  they  fare. 
O  bounding  breeze  !  O  rushing  seas  ! 
At  last,  at  last,  unite  them  there."  * 

This  is  not  mere  longing,  it  is  prophecy.  So  over 
these  two,  our  old  friends  who  are  friends  no  more,  we 
sorrow  not  as  men  without  hope.  It  is  only  for  those 
who  seem  to  us  to  have  lost  compass  and  purpose,  and 
to  be  driven  helplessly  on  rocks  and  quicksands  ;  whose 
lives  are  spent  in  the  service  of  the  world,  the  flesh, 
and  the  devil ;  for  self  alone,  and  not  for  their  fellow- 
men,  their  country,  or  their  God,  that  we  must  mourn 
and  pray  without  sure  hope  and  without  light ;  trust- 
ing only  that  He,  in  whose  hands  they  as  well  as  we 
*  CLOUGH.  Ambarvalia. 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  405 

are,  who  has  died  for  them  as  well  as  for  us,  who  sees 
all  His  creatures 

"  With  larger,  other  eyes  than  ours, 
To  make  allowance  for  us  all," 

will,  in  His  own  way  and  at  His  own  time,  lead  them 
also  home. 

Another  two  years  have  passed,  and  it  is  again  the 
end  of  the  summer  half-year  at  Rugby  ;  in  fact,  the 
School  has  broken  up.  The  fifth-form  examinations 
were  over  last  week,  and  upon  them  have  followed  the 
Speeches,  and  the  sixth-form  examinations  for  Exhibi- 
tions; and  they  too  are  over  now.  The  boys  have  gone 
to  all  the  winds  of  heaven,  except  the  town  boys  and 
the  eleven,  and  the  few  enthusiasts  besides  who  have 
asked  leave  to  stay  in  their  houses  to  sec  the  result 
of  the  cricket-matches.  For  this  year  the  Wellesburn 
return  match  and  the  Marylebone  match  are  played  at 
Rugby,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  town  and  neighbor- 
hood, and  the  sorrow  of  those  aspiring  young  cricketers 
who  have  been  reckoning  for  the  last  three  months  on 
showing  off  at  Lord's  ground. 

The  Doctor  started  for  the  Lakes  yesterday  morning, 
after  an  interview  with  the  captain  of  the  eleven,  in 
the  presence  of  Thomas,  at  which  he  arranged  in  what 
School  the  cricket  dinners  were  to  be,  and  all  other 
matters  necessary  for  the  satisfactory  carrying  out  of 
the  festivities ;  and  warned  them  as  to  keeping  all 


406  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

spirituous  liquors  out  of  the  close,  and  having  the  gates 
closed  by  nine  o'clock. 

The  Wellesburn  match  was  played  out  with  great 
success  yesterday,  the  School  winning  by  three 
wickets ;  and  to-day  the  great  event  of  the  cricketing 
year,  the  Marylebone  match,  is  being  played.  What 
a  match  it  has  been  !  The  London  eleven  came  down 
by  an  afternoon  train  yesterday,  in  time  to  see  the  end 
of  the  Wellesburn  match  ;  and  as  soon  as  it  was  over, 
their  leading  men  and  umpire  inspected  the  ground, 
criticising  it  rather  unmercifully.  The  Captain  of  the 
School  eleven,  and  one  or  two  others,  who  had  played 
the  Lord's  match  before,  and  knew  old  Mr.  Aislabie 
and  several  of  the  Lord's  men,  accompanied  them ; 
while  the  rest  of  the  eleven  looked  on  from  under  the 
Three  Trees  with  admiring  eyes,  and  asked  one  another 
the  names  of  the  illustrious  strangers,  and  recounted 
how  many  runs  each  of  them  had  made  in  the  late 
matches  in  Bell's  Life.  They  looked  such  hard-bitten, 
wiry,  whiskered  fellows,  that  their  young  adversaries 
felt  rather  desponding  as  to  the  result  of  the  morrow's 
match.  The  ground  was  at  last  chosen,  and  two  men 
set  to  work  upon  it  to  water  and  roll ;  and  then,  there 
being  yet  some  half-hour  of  daylight,  some  one  had 
suggested  a  dance  on  the  turf.  The  close  was  half  full 
of  citizens  and  their  families,  and  the  idea  was  hailed 
with  enthusiasm.  The  cornopean-player  was  still  on 
the  ground  :  in  five  minutes  the  eleven  and  half-a- 
dozen  of  the  Wellesburn  and  Marylebone  men  got 


THE  CRICKET  FIELD,  RUCBY 


TOM   BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  407 

partners  somehow  or  other,  and  a  merry  country- 
dance  was  going  on,  to  which  every  one  flocked,  and 
new  couples  joined  in  every  minute,  till  there  were  a 
hundred  of  them  going  down  the  middle  and  up  again 
— and  the  long  line  of  School  buildings  looked  gravely 
down  on  them,  every  window  glowing  with  the  last  rays 
of  the  western  sun,  and  the  rooks  clanged  about  in  the 
tops  of  the  old  elms,  greatly  excited,  and  resolved  on 
having  their  country-dance  too,  and  the  great  flag 
flapped  lazily  in  the  gentle  western  breeze.  Altogether 
it  was  a  sight  which  would  have  made  glad  the  heart 
of  our  brave  old  founder,  Lawrence  Sheriff,  if  he  were 
half  as  good  a  fellow  as  I  take  him  to  have  been. 
It  Avas  a  cheerful  sight  to  see !  but  what  made  it  so 
valuable  in  the  sight  of  the  Captain  of  the  School 
eleven  was,  that  he  there  saw  his  young  hands  shaking 
off  their  shyness  and  awe  of  the  Lord's  men,  as  they 
crossed  hands  and  capered  about  on  the  grass  together ; 
for  the  strangers  entered  into  it  all,  and  threw  away 
their  cigars,  and  danced  and  shouted  like  boys ;  while 
old  Mr.  Aislabie  stood  by  looking  on  in  his  white  hat, 
leaning  on  a  bat,  in  benevolent  enjoyment.  "  This  hop 
will  be  worth  thirty  runs  to  us  to-morrow,  and  will  be 
the  making  of  Haggles  and  Johnson,"  thinks  the  young 
leader,  as  he  revolves  many  things  in  his  mind,  stand- 
ing by  the  side  of  Mr.  Aislabie,  whom  he  will  not 
leave  for  a  minute,  for  he  feels  that  the  character  of 
the  School  for  courtesy  is  resting  on  his  shoulders. 
But  when  a  quarter-to-nine  struck,  and  he  saw  old 


408  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Thomas  beginning  to  fidget  about  with  the  keys  in 
his  hand,  he  thought  of  the  Doctor's  parting  monition, 
and  stopped  the  cornopean  at  once,  notwithstanding 
the  loud-voiced  remonstrances  from  all  sides ;  and  the 
crowd  scattered  away  from  the  close,  the  eleven  all 
going  into  the  School-house,  where  supper  and  beds 
were  provided  for  them  by  the  Doctor's  orders. 

Deep  had  been  the  consultations  at  supper  as  to 
the  order  of  going  in,  who  should  bowl  the  first  over, 
whether  it  would  be  best  to  play  steady  or  freelv  ; 
and  the  youngest  hands  declared  that  they  shouldn't 
be  a  bit  nervous,  and  praised  their  opponents  as  the 
jolliest  fellows  in  the  world,  except  perhaps  their  old 
friends  the  Wellesburn  men.  How  far  a  little  <*ood- 

O 

nature  from  their  elders  will  go  with  the  right  sort 
of  boys ! 

The  morning  had  dawned  bright  and  warm,  to  the 
intense  relief  of  many  an  anxious  youngster,  up  betimes 
to  mark  the  signs  of  the  weather.  The  eleven  went 
down  in  a  bodv  before  breakfast,  for  a  plunge  in  the 

*/  i  O 

cold  bath  in  the  corner  of  the  close.  The  ground  was 
in  splendid  order,  and  soon  after  ten  o'clock,  before 
spectators  had  arrived,  all  was  ready,  and  two  of  the 
Lord's  men  took  their  places  at  the  wicket ;  the  School, 
with  the  usual  liberality  of  3Toung  hands,  having  put 
their  adversaries  in  first.  Old  Bailey  stepped  up  to  the 
wicket,  arid  called  play,  and  the  match  has  begun. 

"Oh,  well   bowled!    well  bowled,  Johnson!"  cries 


TOM   BROWN'S  LAST   MATCH. 

the  captain,  catching  up  the  ball  and  sending  it  high 
above  the  rook  trees,  while  the  third  Marylebone  man 
walks  away  from  the  wicket,  and  old  Bailey  gravely 
sets  up  the  middle  stump  again  and  puts  the  bails  on. 

';  How  many  runs  ?"  Away  scamper  three  boys  to  the 
scoring-table,  and  are  back  again  in  a  minute  amongst 
the  rest  of  the  eleven,  who  are  collected  together  in  a 
knot  between  wicket.  "  Only  eighteen  runs,  and  three 
wickets  down  !"  "  Huzza  for  old  Rugby  !"  sings  out 
Jack  Haggles  the  long-stop,  toughest  and  burliest  of 
boys,  commonly  called  '  Swiper  Jack  ;'  and  forthwith 
stands  on  his  head,  and  brandishes  his  legs  in  the  air 
in  triumph,  till  the  next  boy  catches  hold  of  his  heels, 
and  throws  him  over  on  his  back. 

"  Steady  there,  don't  be  such  an  ass,  Jack,"  says 
the  captain ;  '•  we  haven't  got  the  best  wicket  yet. 
Ah,  look  out  now  at  cover-point,"  adds  he,  as  he  sees 
a  long-armed,  bare-headed,  slashing-looking  player 
coming  to  the  wicket.  "And,  Jack,  mind  your  hits; 
he  steals  more  runs  than  any  man  in  England." 

And  they  all  find  that  they  have  got  their  work  to 
do  now :  the  new-comer's  off-hitting  is  tremendous, 
and  his  running  like  a  flash  of  lightning.  He  is 
never  in  his  ground,  except  when  his  wicket  is  down. 
Xothing  in  the  whole  game  so  trying  to  boys ;  he  has 
stolen  three  boys  in  the  first  ten  minutes,  and  Jack 
Haggles  is  furious,  and  begins  throwing  over  savagely 
to  the  further  wicket,  until  he  is  sternly  stopped  by 
the  captain.  It  is  all  that  young  gentleman  can  do 


410  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL   DAYS. 

to  keep  his  team  steady,  but  he  knows  that  everything 
depends  on  it,  and  faces  his  work  bravely.  The  score 
creeps  up  to  fifty,  the  boys  begin  to  look  blank,  and 
the  spectators,  who  ai-e  now  mustering  strong,  are 
very  silent.  The  ball  flies  off  his  bat  to  all  parts  of 
the  field,  and  he  gives  no  rest  and  no  catches  to  any 
one.  But  cricket  is  full  of  glorious  chances,  and  the 
goddess  who  presides  over  it  loves  to  bring  down  the 
most  skilful  players.  Johnson,  the  young  blower,  is 
getting  wild,  and  bowls  a  ball  almost  wide  to  the  off; 
the  batter  steps  out  and  cuts  it  beautifully  to  where 
cover-point  is  standing  very  deep,  in  fact  almost  off 
the  ground.  The  ball  comes  skimming  and  twisting 
along  about  three  feet  from  the  ground;  he  rushes  at 
it,  and  it  sticks  somehow  or  other  in  the  fingers  of  his 
left  hand,  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  himself  and 
the  whole  field.  Such  a  catch  hasn't  been  made  in 
the  close  for  years,  and  the  cheering  is  maddening. 
"Pretty  cricket,"  says  the  captain,  throwing  himself 
on  the  ground  by  the  deserted  wicket  with  a  long 
breath ;  he  feels  that  a  crisis  has  passed. 

I  wished  I  had  space  to  describe  the  whole  match  ; 
how  the  captain  stumped  the  next  man  off  a  leg- 
shooter,  and  bowled  slow  lobs  to  old  Mr.Aislabie,  who 
came  in  for  the  last  wicket.  How  the  Lord's  men 
were  out  by  half-past  twelve  o'clock  for  ninety-eight 
runs.  How  the  captain  of  the  School  eleven  went  in 
first  to  give  his  men  pluck,  and  scored  twenty-five  in 
beautiful  style ;  how  Rugby  was  only  four  behind  in 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  411 

the  first  innings.  What  a  glorious  dinner  they  had  in 
the  fourth-form  School,  and  how  the  cover-point  hitter 
sang  the  most  topping  comic  songs,  and  old  Mr. 
Aislabie  made  the  best  speeches  that  ever  were  heard, 
afterwards.  But  I  haven't  space,  that's  the  fact,  and 
so  you  must  fancy  it  all,  and  carry  yourselves  on  to 
half-past  seven  o'clock,  when  the  School  are  again  in, 
with  five  wickets  down  and  only  thirty-two  runs  to 
make  to  win.  The  Marylebone  men  played  carelessly 
in  their  second  innings,  but  they  are  working  like 
horses  now  to  save  the  match. 

There  is  much  healthy,  hearty,  happy  life  scattered 
up  and  down  the  close ;  but  the  group  to  which  I  beg 
to  call  your  especial  attention  is  there,  on  the  slope  of 
the  island,  which  looks  towards  the  cricket-ground.  It 
consists  of  three  figures  ;  two  are  seated  on  a  bench, 
and  one  on  the  ground  at  their  feet.  The  first,  a  tall, 
slight,  and  rather  gaunt  man  with  a  bushy  eyebrow 
and  a  dry  humorous  smile,  is  evidently  a  clergyman. 
He  is  carelessly  dressed,  and  looks  rather  used  up, 
which  isn't  much  to  be  wondered  at,  seeing  that  he 
has  just  finished  six  weeks  of  examination  work  ;  but 
there  he  basks,  arid  spreads  himself  out  in  the  evening 
sun,  bent  on  enjoying  life,  though  he  doesn't  quite 
know  what  to  do  with  his  arms  and  legs.  Surely  it  is 
our  friend  the  young  master,  whom  we  have  had 
glimpses  of  before,  but  his  face  has  gained  a  great 
deal  since  we  last  came  across  him. 

And  by  his  side,  in  white  flannel  shirt  and  trousers, 


412  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

straw  hat,  the  captain's  belt,  and  the  untanned  yellow 
cricket  shoes  which  all  the  eleven  wear,  sits  a  strap- 
ping figure  near  six  feet  high,  with  ruddy  tanned  face 
and  whiskers,  curly  brown  hair  and  a  laughing  danc- 
ing eye.  He  is  leaning  forward  with  his  elbows  rest- 
ing on  his  knees,  and  dandling  his  favorite  bat,  with 
which  he  has  made  thirty  or  forty  runs  to-day,  in  his 
strong  brown  hands.  It  is  Tom  Brown,  grown  into  a 
young  man  nineteen  years  old,  a  praepostor  and  captain 
of  the  eleven,  spending  his  last  day  as  a  Rugby  boy, 
and  let  us  hope  as  much  wiser  as  he  is  bigger  since  we 
last  had  the  pleasure  of  coming  across  him. 

And  at  their  feet  on  the  warm  dry  ground,  similarly 
dressed,  sits  Arthur,  Turkish  fashion,  with  his  bat 
across  his  knees.  He  too  is  no  longer  a  boy,  less  of 
a  boy  in  fact  than  Tom,  if  one  may  judge  from  the 
thoughtfulness  of  his  face,  which  is  somewhat  paler  too 
than  one  could  wish ;  but  his  figure,  though  slight,  is 
well  knit  and  active,  and  all  his  old  timidity  has  dis- 
appeared, and  is  replaced  by  silent  quaint  fun,  with 
which  his  face  twinkles  all  over,  as  he  listens  to  the 
broken  talk  between  the  other  two.  in  which  he  joins 
every  now  and  then. 

All  three  are  watching  the  game  eagerly,  and  join- 
ing in  the  cheering  which  follows  every  good  hit.  It 
is  pleasing  to  see  the  easy,  friendly  footing  which  the 
pupils  are  on  with  their  master,  perfectly  respectful, 
yet  with  no  reserve  and  nothing  forced  in  their  inter- 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  413 

course.  Tom  lias  clearly  abandoned  the  old  theory  of 
"natural  enemies,"  in  this  case  at  any  rate. 

But  it  is  time  to  listen  to  what  they  are  saying,  and 
see  what  we  can  gather  out  of  it. 

"  I  don't  object  to  your  theory,"  says  the  master, 
"  and  I  allow  you  have  made  a  fair  case  for  yourself. 
But  now,  in  such  books  as  Aristophanes  for  instance, 
you've  been  reading  a  play  this  half  with  the  Doctor, 
haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  the  Knights,"  answered  Tom. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  you  would  have  enjoyed  the  won- 
derful humor  of  it  twice  as  much  if  you  had  taken 
more  pains  with  your  scholarship." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  don't  believe  any  boy  in  the  form 
enjoyed  the  sets-to  between  Cleon  and  the  Sausage- 
seller  more  than  I  did — eh,  Arthur?"  said  Tom,  giv- 
ing him  a  stir  with  his  foot. 

"Yes,  I  must  say  he  did,"  said  Arthur.  "I 
think,  sir,  you've  hit  upon  the  wrong  book 
there." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  the  master.  "  Why,  in  those 
very  passages  of  arms,  how  can  you  thoroughly  appre- 
ciate them  unless  you  are  master  of  the  weapons  ?  and 
the  weapons  are  the  language,  which  you,  Brown,  have 
never  half  worked  at ;  and  so,  as  I  say,  you  must  have 
lost  all  the  delicate  shades  of  meaning  which  make  the 
best  part  of  the  fun." 

"  Oh  !  well  played — bravo,  Johnson  !"  shouted 
Arthur,  dropping  his  bat  and  clapping  furiously,  and 


414  TOM  BKOWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

Torn  joined  in  with  a  "  Bravo,  Johnson  !"  which 
might  have  been  heard  at  the  chapel. 

"  Eh  !  what  was  it  ?  I  didn't  see,"  inquired  the 
master;  "they  only  got  one  run,  I  thought?" 

"  No,  but  such  a  ball,  three-quarters  length  arid 
coming  straight  for  his  leg  bail.  Nothing  but  that 
turn  of  the  wrist  could  have  saved  him,  and  he  drew  it 
away  to  leg  for  a  safe  one.  Bravo,  Johnson  !" 

"  How  well  they  are  bowling,  though,"  said 
Arthur;  "they  don't  mean  to  be  beat,  I  can  see." 

"  There  now,"  struck  in  the  master,  "  you  see  that's 
just  what  I  have  been  preaching  this  half-hour.  The 
delicate  play  is  the  true  thing.  I  don't  understand 
cricket,  so  I  don't  enjoy  those  fine  draws  which  you 
tell  me  are  the  best  play,  though  when  you  or  Raggles 
hit  a  ball  hard  away  for  six  I  am  as  delighted  as  any 
one.  Don't  you  see  the  analogy  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Tom,  looking  up  roguishly, 
"  I  see ;  only  the  question  remains  whether  I  should 
have  got  most  good  by  understanding  Greek  particles 
or  cricket  thoroughly.  I'm  such  a  thick,  I  never 
should  have  had  time  for  both." 

"I  see  you  are  an  incorrigible,"  said  the  master 
with  a  'chuckle ;  "  but  I  refute  you  by  an  example. 
Arthur  there  has  taken  in  Greek  and  cricket  too." 

"  Yes,  but  no  thanks  to  him ;  Greek  came  natural 
to  him.  Why,  when  he  first  came  I  remember  he 
used  to  read  Herodotus  for  pleasure  as  I  did  Don 
Quixote,  and  couldn't  have  made  a  false  concord  if 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  415 

he'd  tried  ever  so  hard — and  then  I  looked  after  his 
cricket." 

"Out!  Bailey  has  given  him  out — do  you  see, 
Tom  ?"  cries  Arthur.  "  How  foolish  of  them  to  run 
so  hard." 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  helped,  he  has  played  very  well. 
Whose  turn  is  it  to  go  in  ?" 

"I  don't  know;  they've  got  your  list  in  the 
tent." 

"Let's  go  and  see,"  said  Tom,  rising;  but  at  this 
moment  Jack  Raggles  and  two  or  three  more  came 
running  to  the  island  moat. 

"Oh,  Brown,  mayn't  I  go  in  next?"  shouts  the 
Swiper. 

"Whose  name  is  next  on  the  list?"  says  the 
Captain. 

"Winter's,  and  then  Arthur's,"  answers  the  boy 
who  carries  it :  "  but  there  are  only  twenty-six  runs 
to  get,  and  no  time  to  lose.  I  heard  Mr.  Aislabie  say 
that  the  stumps  must  be  drawn  at  a  quarter  past  eight 
exactly." 

"  Oh,  do  let  the  Swiper  go  in,"  chorus  the  boys :  so 
Tom  yields  against  his  better  judgment. 

"I  dare  say  now  I've  lost  the  match  by  this  non- 
sense," he  says,  as  he  sits  down  again  ;  "  they'll  be 
sure  to  get  Jack's  wicket  in  three  or  four  minutes ; 
however,  you'll  have  the  chance,  sir,  of  seeing  a  hard 
hit  or  two,"  adds  he,  smiling,  and  turning  to  the 
master. 


416  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"  Come,  none  of  your  irony,  Brown,"  answers  the 
master.  "  I'm  beginning  to  understand  the  game 
scientifically.  What  a  noble  game  it  is  too  !" 

"  Isn't  it  ?  But  it's  more  than  a  game.  It's  an  in- 
stitution," said  Tom. 

"Yes,"  said  Arthur,  "the  birthright  of  British 
boys,  old  and  young,  as  habeas  corpus  and  trial  by 
jury  are  of  British  men." 

"  The  discipline  and  reliance  on  one  another  which 
it  teaches  is  so  valuable,  I  think,"  went  on  the  mas- 
ter, "  it  ought  to  be  such  an  unselfish  game.  It  merges 
the  individual  in  the  eleven;  he  doesn't  play  that  he 
may  win,  but  that  his  side  may." 

"That's  very  true,"  said  Tom,  "and  that's  why 
foot-ball  and  cricket,  now  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  are 
such  much  better  games  than  fives'  or  hare-and- 
hounds,  or  any  others  where  the  object  is  to  come 
in  first  or  to  win  for  oneself,  and  not  that  one's  side 
may  win." 

"And  then  the  Captain  of  .the  eleven!"  said  the 
master,  "  what  a  post  is  his  in  our  School-world  ! 
almost  as  hard  as  the  Doctor's ;  requiring  skill  and 
gentleness  and  firmness,  and  I  know  not  what  other 
rare  qualities." 

"Which  don't  he  wish  he  may  get?"  said  Tom, 
laughing  ;  "  at  any  rate  he  hasn't  got  them  yet,  or  he 
wouldn't  have  been  such  a  fiat  to-night  as  to  let  Jack 
Raggles  go  in  out  of  his  turn." 

"Ah!    the  Doctor   never  would  have  done   that/' 


TOM   BROWN'S   LAST   MATCH.  417 

said  Arthur,  demurely.  '•  Tom,  you've  a  great  deal 
to  learn  yet  in  the  art  of  ruling." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you'd  tell  the  Doctor  so,  then,  and 
get  him  to  let  me  stop  till  I'm  twenty.  I  don't  want 
to  leave,  I'm  sure." 

"What  a  sight  it  is,"  broke  in  the  master,  "the 
Doctor  as  a  ruler.  Perhaps  ours  is  the  only  little  cor- 
ner of  the  British  Empire  which  is  thoroughly,  wisely, 
and  strongly  ruled  just  now.  I'm  more  and  more 
thankful  every  day  of  my  life  that  I  came  here  to  be 
under  him." 

"So  am  I,  I'm  sure,"  said  Tom;  "and  more  and 
more  sorry  that  I've  got  to  leave." 

"Every  place  and  thing  one  sees  here  reminds  one 
of  some  wise  act  of  his,"  went  on  the  master.  "  This 
island  now — you  remember  the  time,  Brown,  when  it 
was  laid  out  in  small  gardens,  and  cultivated  by  frost- 
bitten fags  in  February  and  March?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Tom  ;  "  didn't  I  hate  spend- 
ing two  hours  in  the  afternoons  grubbing  in  the  tough 
dirt  with  the  stump  of  a  fives'  bat  ?  But  turf-cart 
was  good  fun  enough." 

"  I  dare  say  it  was,  but  it  was  always  leading  to 
fights  with  the  townspeople ;  and  then  the  stealing 
flowers  out  of  all  the  gardens  in  Rugby  for  the  Easter 
show  was  abominable." 

"Well,  so  it  was,"  said  Tom,  looking  down,  "but 
we  fags  couldn't  help  ourselves.  But  what  has  that  to 
do  with  the  Doctor's  ruling?" 

27 


418  TOM.  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"A  great  deal,  I  think,"  said  the  master;  "what 
brought  island  fagging  to  an  end?" 

"  Why,  the  Easter  Speeches  were  put  off  till  Mid- 
summer," said  Tom,  "and  the  sixth  had  the  gym- 
nastic poles  put  up  here." 

"Well,  and  who  changed  the  time  of  the  Speeches, 
and  put  the  idea  of  gymnastic  poles  into  the  heads  of 
their  worships  the  sixth  form?"  said  the  master. 

"The  Doctor,  I  suppose,"  said  Tom.  "I  never 
thought  of  that." 

"Of  course  you  didn't,"  said  the  master,  "or  else, 
fag  as  you  were,  you  would  have  shouted  with  the 
whole  school  against  putting  down  old  customs.  And 
that's  the  way  that  all  the  Doctor's  reforms  have  been 
carried  out  when  he  has  been  left  to  himself — quietly 
and  naturally,  putting  a  good  thing  in  the  place  of  a 
bad,  and  letting  the  bad  die  out;  no  wavering  and  no 
hurry — the  best  thing  that  could  be  done  for  the  time 
being,  and  patience  for  the  rest." 

"Just  Tom's  own  way,"  chimed  in  Arthur,  nudg- 
ing Tom  with  his  elbow,  "  driving  a  nail  where  it 
will  go;"  to  which  allusion  Tom  answered  with  a  sly 
kick. 

"Exactly  so,"  said  the-  master,  innocent  of  the  al- 
lusion and  bye-play. 

Meantime  Jack  Haggles,  with  his  sleeves  tucked  up 
above  his  great  brow-n,  elbows,  scorning  pads  and 
gloves,  has  presented  himself  at  the  wicket ;  and  hav- 
ing run  one  for  a  forward,  dri.v.e  of  Johnson's,  is  about 


TOM   BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  419 

to  receive  the  first  ball.  There  are  only  twenty-four 
runs  to  make,  and  four  wickets  to  go  down ;  a  winning 
match  if  they  play  decently  steady.  The  ball  is  a 
very  swift  one,  and  rises  fast,  catching  Jack  on  the 
outside  of  the  thigh,  and  bounding  away  as  if  from 
india-rubber,  while  they  run  two  for  a  leg-bye  amidst 
great  applause,  and  shouts  from  Jack's  many  ad- 
mirers. The  next  ball  is  a  beautifully  pitched  ball 
for  the  outer  stump,  which  the  reckless  and  unfeeling 
Jack  catches  hold  of,  and  hits  right  round  to  leg 
for  five,  while  the  applause  becomes  deafening :  only 
seventeen  runs  to  get  with  four  wickets — the  game 
is  all  but  ours  ! 

"It  is  "over"  now,  and  Jack  walks  swaggering 
about  his  wicket,  with  the  bat  over  his  shoulder,  while 
Mr.  Aislabie  holds  a  short  parley  with  his  men.  Then 
the  cover-point  hitter,  that  cunning  man,  goes  on  to 
bowl  slow  twisters.  Jack  waves  his  hand  triumphantly 
towards  the  tent,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  See  if  I  don't 
finish  it  all  off  now  in  three  hits." 

Alas,  my  son  Jack  !  the  enemy  is  too  old  for  thee. 
The  first  ball  of  the  over  Jack  steps  out  and  meets, 
swiping  with  all  his  force.  If  he  had  only  allowed 
for  the  twist !  but  he  hasn't,  and  so  the  ball  goes 
spinning  straight  into  the  air,  as  if  it  would  never 
come  down  again.  Away  runs  Jack,  shouting  and 
trusting  to  the  chapter  of  accidents,  but  the  bowler 
runs  steadily  under  it,  judging  every  spin,  and  call- 
ing out  "  I  have  it,"  catches  it,  and  playfully  pitches 


420  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

it  on  to  the  back  of  the  stalwart  Jack,  who  is  depart- 
ing with  a  rueful  countenance. 

"  I  knew  how  it  would  be,"  says  Tom,  rising. 
"  Come  along,  the  game's  getting  very  serious." 

So  they  leave  the  island  and  go  to  the  tent,  and 
after  deep  consultation  Arthur  is  sent  in,  and  goes 
off  to  the  wicket  with  a  last  exhortation  from  Tom 
to  play  steady  and  keep  his  bat  straight.  To  the 
suggestions  that  Winter  is  the  best  bat  left,  Tom 
only  replies,  "Arthur  is  the  steadiest,  and  Johnson 
will  make  the  runs  if  the  wicket  is  only  kept  up." 

"I  am  surprised  to  see  Arthur  in  the  eleven,"  said 
the  master,  as  they  stood  together  in  front  of  the  dense 
crowd,  which  was  now  closing  in  round  the  ground. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  he  ought  to  be  in 
for  his  play,"  said  Tom,  "but  I  couldn't  help  putting 
him  in.  It  will  do  him  so  much  good,  and  you  can't 
think  what  I  owe  him." 

The  master  smiled.  The  clock  strikes  eight,  and 
the  whole  field  becomes  fevered  with  excitement. 
Arthur,  after  two  narrow  escapes,  scores  one ;  and 
Johnson  gets  the  ball.  The  bowling  and  fielding  are 
superb,  and  Johnson's  batting  Avorthy  the  occasion. 
He  makes  here  a  two  and  there  a  one,  managing  to 
keep  the  ball  to  himself,  and  Arthur  backs  up  and 
runs  perfectly :  only  eleven  runs  to  make  now,  and 
the  crowd  scarcely  breathe.  At  last  Arthur  gets  the 
ball  again,  and  actually  drives  it  forward  for  two,  and 
feels  prouder  than  when  he  got  the  three  best  prizes, 


TOM   BROWN'S   LAST   MATCH.  421 

at  hearing   Tom's  shout  of  joy,  "Well  played,  well 
played,  young  'un !" 

But  the  next  ball  is  too  much  for  a  young  hand, 
and  his  bails  fly  different  ways.  Nine  runs  to  make, 
and  two  wickets  to  go  down — it  is  too  much  for  human 
nerves. 

Before  Winter  can  get  in,  the  omnibus  which  is  to 
take  the  Lord's  men  to  the  train  pulls  up  at  the  side 
of  the  close,  and  Mr.  Aislabie  and  Tom  consult,  and 
give  out  that  the  stumps  will  be  drawn  after  the  next 
over.  And  so  ends  the  great  match.  Winter  arid 
Johnson  carry  out  their  bats,  and  it  being  a  one  day's 
match,  the  Lord's  men  are  declared  the  winners,  they 
having  scored  the  most  in  the  first  innings. 

But  such  a  defeat  is  a  victory :  so  think  Tom  and 
all  the  School  eleven,  as  they  accompany  their  con- 
querors to  the  omnibus,  and  send  them  off  with  three 
ringing  cheers,  after  Mr.  Aislabie  has  shaken  hands 
all  round,  saying  to  Tom,  "  I  must  compliment  you, 
sir,  on  your  eleven,  and  I  hope  we  shall  have  you 
for  a  member  if  you  come  up  to  town." 

A<   Tom  and  the  rest  of  the  eleven  were  turnin^ 

O 

back  into  the  close,  and  everybody  was  beginning  to 
cry  out  for  another  country-dance,  encouraged  by  the 
success  of  the  night  before,  the  young  master,  who 
was  just  leaving  the  close,  stopped  him,  and  asked 
him  to  come  up  to  tea  at  half-past  eight,  adding, 
"  I  won't  keep  you  more  than  half-an-hour,  and  ask 
Arthur  to  come  up  too." 


422  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"I'll  come  up  with  you  directly,  if  you'll  let  me," 
said  Tom,  "  for  I  feel  rather  melancholy,  and  not 
quite  up  to  the  country-dance  and  supper  with  the 
rest." 

"Do  by  all  means,"  said  the  master;  "I'll  wait 
here  for  you." 

So  Tom  went  off  to  get  his  boots  and  things  from 
the  tent,  to  tell  Arthur  of  the  invitation,  and  to  speak 
to  his  second  in  command  about  stopping  the  dancing 
and  shutting  up  the  close  as  soon  as  it  grew  dusk. 
Arthur  promised  to  follow  as  soon  as  he  had  had  a 
dance.  So  Tom  handed  his  things  over  to  the  men 
in  charge  of  the  tent,  and  walked  quietly  away  to  the 
gate  where  the  master  was  waiting,  and  the  two  took 
their  way  together  up  the  Ililhnorton  road. 

Of  course  they  found  the  master's  house  locked  up, 
and  all  the  servants  away  in  the  close,  about  this  time 
no  doubt  footing  it  away  on  the  grass  with  extreme 
delight  to  themselves,  and  in  utter  oblivion  of  the 
unfortunate  bachelor  their  master,  whose  one  enjoy- 
ment in  the  shape  of  meals  was  his  "  dish  of  tea  " 
(as  our  grandmothers  called  it)  in  the  evening ;  and 
the  phrase  was  apt  in  his  case,  for  he  always  poured 
his  out  into  the  saucer  before  drinking.  Great  was 
the  good  man's  horror  at  finding  himself  shut  out  of 
his  own  house.  Had  he  been  alone,  he  would  have 
treated  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  would  have  strolled 
contentedly  up  and  down  his  gravel-walk  until  some 
one  came  home ;  but  he  was  hurt  at  the  stain  on  his 


TOM  BROWN'S   LAST  MATCH.  423 

character  of  host,  especially  as  the  guest  was  a  pupil. 
However,  the  guest  seemed  to  think  it  a  great  joke, 
and  presently  as  they  poked  about  round  the  house, 
mounted  a  wall,  from  which  he  could  reach  a  passage 
window  :  the  window,  as  it  turned  out,  was  not  bolted, 
so  in  another  minute  Tom  was  in  the  house  and  down 
at  the  front  door,  which  he  opened  from  inside.  The 
master  chuckled  grimly  at  this  burglarious  entry,  and 
insisted  on  leaving  the  hall-door  and  two  of  the  front 
windows  open  to  frighten  the  truants  on  their  return  ; 
and  then  the  two  set  about  foraging  for  tea,  in  which 
operation  the  master  was  much  at  fault,  having  the 
faintest  possible  idea  of  where  to  find  anything,  and 
being  moreover  wondrously  short-sighted ;  but  Tom 
by  a  sort  of  instinct  knew  the  right  cupboards  in  the 
kitchen  and  pantry,  and  soon  managed  to  place  on  the 
snuggery  table  better  materials  for  a  meal  than  had 
appeared  there  probably  during  the  reign  of  his  tutor, 
who  was  then  and  there  initiated,  amongst  other  things, 
into  the  excellence  of  that  mysterious  condiment,  a 
dripping-cake.  The  cake  was  newly  baked,  and  all 
rich  and  flaky ;  Tom  had  found  it  reposing  in  the 
cook's  private  cupboard,  awaiting  her  return ;  and  as 
a  warning  to  her,  they  finished  it  to  the  last  crumb. 
The  kettle  sang  away  merrily  on  the  hob  of  the 
snuggery,  for,  notwithstanding  the  time  of  year,  they 
lighted  a  fire,  throwing  both  the  windows  wide  open 
at  the  same  time.  The  heap  of  books  and  papers 
were  pushed  away  to  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and 


424  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

the  great  solitary  engraving  of  King's  College  Chapel 
over  the  mantelpiece  looked  less  stiff  than  usual,  as 
they  settled  themselves  down  in  the  twilight  to  the 
serious  drinking  of  tea. 

After  some  talk  on  the  match,  and  other  indiffer- 
ent subjects,  the  conversation  came  naturally  back  to 
Tom's  approaching  departure,  over  which  he  began 
again  to  make  his  moan. 

"  Well,  we  shall  all  miss  you  quite  as  much  as  you 
•will  miss  us,"  said  the  master.  "You  are  the  Nestor 
of  the  School  now,  are  you  not  ?" 

"Yes,  ever  since  East  left,"  answered  Tom. 

"  By  the  bye,  have  you  heard  from  him  ?" 

"Yes,  I  had  a  letter  in  February,  just  before  he 
started  for  India  to  join  his  regiment." 

"  He  will  make  a  capital  officer." 

"  Aye,  won't  he!"  said  Tom,  brightening  ;  "no  fel- 
low could  handle  boys  better,  and  I  suppose  soldiers 
are  very  like  boys.  And  he'll  never  tell  them  to  go 
where  he  won't  go  himself.  No  mistake  about  that — 
a  braver  fellow  never  walked." 

"  His  year  in  the  sixth  will  have  taught  him  a  good 
deal  that  will  be  useful  to  him  now." 

"  So  it  will,"  said  Tom,  staring  into  the  fire.  "  Poor 
dear  Harry,"  he  went  on,  "  how  well  I  remember  the 
day  we  were  put  out  of  the  twenty.  How  he  rose  to 
the  situation,  and  burnt  his  cigar-cases,  and  gave  away 
his  pistols,  and  pondered  on  the  constitutional  authority 
of  the  sixth,  and  his  new  duties  to  the  Doctor,  and  the 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  425 

fifth  form,  and  the  fags.  Aye,  and  no  fellow  ever 
acted  up  to  them  better,  though  he  was  always  a  peo- 
ple's man — for  the  fags,  and  against  constituted 
authorities.  He  couldn't  help  that,  you  know.  I'm 
sure  the  Doctor  must  have  liked  him  ?"  said  Tom, 
looking  up  inquiringly. 

"  The  Doctor  sees  the  good  in  every  one,  and  appre- 
ciates it,"  said  the  master,  dogmatically  ;  "  but  I  hope 
East  will  get  a  good  colonel.  He  won't  do  if  he  can't 
respect  those  above  him.  How  long  it  took  him,  even 
here,  to  learn  the  lesson  of  obeying." 

"  Well,  I  wish  I  were  alongside  of  him,"  said  Tom. 
"  If  I  can't  be  at  Rugby,  I  want  to  be  at  work  in  the 
world,  and  not  dawdling  away  three  years  at  Oxford." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  at  work  in  the  world  ?' ' 
said   the  master,   pausing,  with   his  lips   close  to   his 
saucerful  of  tea,  and  peering  at  Tom  over  it. 

"  Well,  I  mean  real  work  ;  one's  profession  ;  what- 
ever one  will  have  really  to  do,  and  make  one's  living 
by.  I  want  to  be  doing  some  real  good,  feeling  that 
I  am  not  only  at  play  in  the  world,"  answered  Tom, 
rather  puzzled  to  find  out  himself  what  he  really  did 
mean. 

"  You  are  mixing  up  two  very  different  things  in 
your  head,  I  think,  Brown,"  said  the  master,  putting 
down  the  empty  saucer,  "  and  you  ought  to  get  clear 
about  them.  You  talk  of  'working  to  get  your  liv- 
ing,' and  'doing  some  real  good  in  the  world,'  in  the 
same  breath.  Now,  you  may  be  getting  a  very  good 


426  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

living  in  a  profession,  and  yet  doing  no  good  at  all  in 
the  world,  but  quite  the  contrary,  at  the  same  time. 
Keep  the  latter  before  you  as  your  only  object,  and 
you  will  be  right,  whether  you  make  a  living  or  not ; 
but  if  you  dwell  on  the  other,  you'll  very  likely  drop 
into  mere  money-making,  and  let  the  world  take  care 
of  itself  for  good  or  evil.  Don't  be  in  a  hurry  about 
finding  your  work  in  the  world  for  yourself;  you  are 
not  old  enough  to  judge  for  yourself  yet,  but  just  look 
about  you  in  the  place  you  find  yourself  in,  and  try  to 
make  things  a  little  better  and  honester  there.  You'll 
find  plenty  to  keep  your  hand  in  at  Oxford,  or 
wherever  else  you  go.  And  don't  be  led  away  to 
think  this  part  of  the  world  important,  and  that  unim- 
portant. Every  corner  of  the  world  is  important. 
No  man  knows  whether  this  part  or  that  is  most  so, 
but  every  man  may  do  some  honest  work  in  his  own 
corner."  And  then  the  good  man  went  on  to  talk 
wisely  to  Tom  of  the  sort  of  work  which  he  might  take 
up  as  an  undergraduate ;  and  warned  him  of  the  prev- 
alent University  sins,  and  explained  to  him  the  many 
and  great  differences  between  University  and  School 
life ;  till  the  twilight  changed  into  darkness,  and  they 
heard  the  truant  servants  stealing  in  by  the  back 
entrance. 

"  I  wonder  where  Arthur  can  be,"  said  Tom  at  last, 
looking  at  his  watch  :  "  why,  it's  nearly  half-past  nine 
already." 

"  Oh,  he  is  comfortably  at  supper  with  the  eleven, 


TOM  BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  427 

forgetful  of  his  oldest  friends,"  said  the  master.  "  No- 
thing has  given  me  greater  pleasure,"  he  went  on, 
"  than  your  friendship  for  him  ;  it  has  been  the  mak- 
ing of  you  both." 

"Of  me,  at  any  rate,"  answered  Tom;  "I  should 
never  have  been  here  new  but  for  him.  It  was  the 
luckiest  chance  in  the  world  that  sent  him  to  Rugby, 
and  made  him  my  chum." 

"  Why  do  you  talk  of  lucky  chances  ?"  said  the 
master;  "  I  don't  know  that  there  are  any  such  things 
in  the  world ;  at  any  rate  there  was  neither  luck  nor 
chance  in  that  matter." 

Tom  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  he  went  on. 
"  Do  you  remember  when  the  Doctor  lectured  you  and 
East  at  the  end  of  one  half-year,  when  you  were  in 
the  shell,  and  had  been  getting  into  all  sorts  of 
scrapes?" 

"Yes,  well  enough,"  said  Tom;  "it  was  the  half- 
year  before  Arthur  came." 

"  Exactly  so,"  answered  the  master.  "Now,  I  was 
with  him  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  and  he  was  in 
great  distress  about  you  two.  And,  after  some  talk, 
we  both  agreed  that  you  in  particular  wanted  some 
object  in  the  School  beyond  games  and  mischief;  for 
it  was  quite  clear  that  you  never  would  make  the 
regular  school  work  your  first  object.  And  so  the 
Doctor,  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  half-year,  looked 
out  the  best  of  the  new  boys,  and  separated  you  and 
East,  and  put  the  young  boy  into  your  study,  in  the 


428  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

hope  that  when  you  had  somebody  to  lean  on  you,  you 
would  begin  to  stand  a  little  steadier  yourself,  and  get 
manliness  and  thoughtfulness.  And  I  can  assure  you 
he  has  watched  the  experiment  ever  since  with  great 
satisfaction.  Ah  !  not  one  of  you  boys  will  ever  know 
the  anxiety  you  have  given  him,  or  the  care  with 
which  he  has  watched  over  every  step  in  your  school 
lives." 

Up  to  this  time,  Tom  had  never  wholly  given  in  to 
or  understood  the  Doctor.  At  first  he  had  thoroughly 
feared  him.  For  some  years,  as  I  have  tried  to  show, 
he  had  learnt  to  regard  him  with  love  and  respect,  and 
to  think  him  a  very  great  and  wise  and  good  man. 
But,  as  regarded  his  own  position  in  the  School,  of 
which  he  was  no  little  proud,  Tom  had  no  idea  of  giv- 
ing any  one  credit  for  it  but  himself;  and,  truth  to 
tell,  was  a  very  self-conceited  young  gentleman  on  the 
subject.  He  was  wont  to  boast  that  he  had  fought  his 
own  way  fairly  up  the  school,  and  had  never  made  up 
to,  or  been  taken  up  by  any  big  fellow  or  master,  and 
that  it  was  now  quite  a  different  place  from  what  it 
was  when  he  first  came.  And,  indeed,  though  he 
didn't  actually  boast  of  it,  yet  in  his  secret  soul  he  did 
to  a  great  extent  believe,  that  the  great  reform  in  the 
School  had  been  owing  quite  as  much  to  himself  as  to 
any  one  else.  Arthur,  he  acknowledged,  had  done 
him  good,  and  taught  him  a  good  deal ;  so  had  other 
boys  in  different  ways,  but  they  had  not  had  the  same 
means  of  influence  on  the  School  in  general ;  and  as 


TOM   BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  429 

for  the  Doctor,  why,  he  was  a  splendid  master,  but 
every  one  knew  that  masters  could  do  very  little  out 
of  school  hours.  In  short  he  felt  on  terms  of  equality 
with  his  chief,  so  far  as  the  social  state  of  the  School 
was  concerned,  and  thought  that  the  Doctor  would 
find  it  no  easy  matter  to  get  on  without  him.  More- 
over, his  school  Toryism  was  still  strong,  and  he 
looked  still  with  some  jealousy  on  the  Doctor,  as 
somewhat  of  a  fanatic  in  the  matter  of  change:  and 
thought  it  very  desirable  for  the  School  that  he  should 
have  some  wise  person  (such  as  himself)  to  look 
sharply  after  vested  School-rights,  and  see  that 
nothing  was  done  to  the  injury  of  the  republic  without 
due  protest. 

It  was  a  new  light  to  him  to  find,  that,  besides 
teaching  the  sixth,  and  governing  and  guiding  the 
whole  School,  editing  classics,  and  writing  histories, 
the  great  Head-master  had  found  time  in  those  busy 
years  to  watch  over  the  career  even  of  him,  Tom 
Brown,  and  his  particular  friends. — and,  no  doubt,  of 
fifty  other  boys  at  the  same  time ;  and  all  this  without 
taking  the  least  credit  to  himself,  or  seeming  to  know, 
or  let  anyone  else  know,  that  he  ever  thought  particu- 
larly of  any  boys  at  all. 

However,  the  Doctor's  victory  was  complete  from 
that  moment  over  Tom  Brown  at  any  rate.  He  gave 
way  at  all  points,  and  the  enemy  marched  right  over 
him,  cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery,  the  land  trans- 
port corps,  and  the  camp  followers.  It  had  taken 


430  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

eight  long  years  to  do  it,  but  now  it  was  done 
thoroughly,  and  there  wasn't  a  corner  of  him  left 
which  didn't  believe  in  the  Doctor.  Had  he  returned 
to  school  again,  and  the  Doctor  begun  the  half-year 
by  abolishing  fagging,  and  foot-ball,  and  the  Saturday 
half-holiday,  or  all  or  any  of  the  most  cherished  school 
institutions,  Tom  would  have  supported  him  with  the 
blindest  faith.  And  so,  after  a  half  confession  of  his 
previous  shortcomings,  and  sorrowful  adieus  to  his 
tutor,  from  whom  he  received  two  beautifully  bound 
volumes  of  the  Doctor's  Sermons,  as  a  parting  present, 
he  marched  down  to  the  School-house,  a  hero-worship- 
per, who  would  have  satisfied  the  soul  of  Thomas 
Carlyle  himself. 

There  he  found  the  eleven  at  high  jinks  after 
supper,  Jack  Raggles  shouting  comic  songs,  and  per- 
forming feats  of  strength ;  and  was  greeted  by  a 
chorus  of  mingled  remonstrance  at  his  desertion,  and 
joy  at  his  reappearance.  And  foiling  in  with  the 
humor  of  the  evening,  was  soon  as  great  a  boy  as  all 
the  rest ;  and  at  ten  o'clock  was  chaired  round  the 
quadrangle,  on  one  of  the  hall  benches,  borne  aloft  by 
the  eleven,  shouting  in  chorus.  "  For  he's  a  jolly 
good  fellow,"  while  old  Thomas,  in  a  melting  mood, 
and  the  other  School-house  servants,  stood  looking  on. 

And  the  next  morning  after  breakfast  he  squared 
up  all  the  cricketing  accounts,  went  round  to  his 
tradesmen  and  other  acquaintance,  and  said  his  hearty 
good-byes,  and  by  twelve  o'clock  was  in  the  train,  and 


TOM   BROWN'S  LAST  MATCH.  431 

away  for  London,  no  longer  a  school-boy  ;  and  divided 
in  his  thoughts  between  hero-worship,  honest  regrets 
over  the  long  stage  of  his  life  which  was  now  slipping 
out  of  sight  behind  him,  and  hopes  and  resolves  for 
the  next  stage,  upon  which  he  was  entering  with  all 
the  confidence  of  a  young  traveller. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
FINIS. 

"  Strange  friend,  past,  present,  and  to  be ; 
Loved  deeplier,  darklier  understood; 
Behold,  I  dream  a  dream  of  good, 
And  mingle  all  the  world  with  thee." 

TENNYSON. 

IN  the  summer  of  1842,  our  hero  stopped  once  again 
at  the  well-known  station :  and,  leaving  his  bag  and 
fishing-rod  with  a  porter,  walked  slowly  and  sadly  up 
towards  the  town.  It  was  now  July.  He  had  rushed 
away  from  Oxford  the  moment  that  term  was  over,  for 
a  fishing  ramble  in  Scotland  with  two  college  friends, 
and  had  been  for  three  weeks  living  on  oatcake, 
mutton-hams,  and  whiskey,  in  the  wildest  parts  of 
Skye.  They  had  descended  one  sultry  evening  on  the 
little  inn  at  Kyle  Rhea  ferry,  and  while  Tom  and 
another  of  the  party  put  their  tackles  together  and 
began  exploring  the  stream  for  a  sea-trout  for  supper, 
the  third  strolled  into  the  house  to  arrange  for  their 
entertainment.  Presently  he  came  out  in  a  loose 
blouse  and  slippers,  a  short  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  an 
old  newspaper  in  his  hand,  and  threw  himself  on  the 
heathery  scrub  which  met  the  shingle,  within  easy  hail 

432 


FINIS.  433 

of  the  fishermen.  There  he  lay,  the  picture  of  free- 
and-easy,  loafing,  hand-to-mouth  young  England, 
"improving  his  mind,"  as  he  shouted  to  them,  by  the 
perusal  of  the  fortnight-old  weekly  paper,  soiled  with 
the  marks  of  toddy-glasses  and  tobacco-ashes,  the 
legacy  of  the  last  traveller,  which  he  had  hunted  out 
from  the  kitchen  of  the  little  hostelry ;  and  being  a 
youth  of  a  communicative  turn  of  mind,  began  impart- 
ing the  contents  to  the  fishermen  as  he  went  on. 

"  What  a  bother  they  are  making  about  these 
wretched  Corn-laws  ;  here's  three  or  four  columns  full 
of  nothing  but  sliding-scales  and  fixed  duties. — Hang 
this  tobacco,  it's  always  going  out ! — Ah,  here's  some- 
thing better — a  splendid  match  between  Kent  and 
England,  Brown !  Kent  winning  by  three  wickets. 
Felix  fifty-six  runs  without  a  chance,  and  not  out!" 

Tom,  intent  on  a  fish  which  had  risen  at  him  twice, 
answered  only  with  a  grunt. 

"Anything  about  the  Goodwood?"  called  out  the 
third  man. 

"  Rory-o-More  drawn.  Butterfly  colt  amiss,"  shouted 
the  student. 

"  Just  my  luck,"  grumbled  the  inquirer,  jerking  his 
flies  off  the  water,  and  throwing  again  with  a  heavy 
sullen  splash,  and  frightening  Tom's  fish. 

"  I  say,  can't  you  throw  lighter  over  there  ?  we 
ain't  fishing  for  grampuses,"  shouted  Tom  across  the 
stream. 

"  Hullo,  Brown !  here's  something  for  you,"  called 

28 


434  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

out  the  reading  man  next  moment.  "Why,  your  old 
master,  Arnold  of  Rugby,  is  dead." 

Tom's  hand  stopped  half-way  in  his  cast,  and  his 
line  and  flies  went  all  tangling  round  and  round  his 
rod ;  you  might  have  knocked  him  over  with  a  feather. 
Neither  of  his  companions  took  any  notice  of  him 
luckily ;  and  with  a  violent  effort  he  set  to  work 
mechanically  to  disentangle  his  line.  He  felt  com- 
pletely carried  off  his  moral  and  intellectual  legs,  as  if 
he  had  lost  his  standing-point  in  the  invisible  world. 
Besides  which,  the  deep  loving  loyalty  which  he  felt 
for  his  old  leader  made  the  shock  intensely  painful. 
It  was  the  first  great  wrench  of  his  life,  the  first  gap 
which  the  angel  Death  had  made  in  his  circle,  and  he 
felt  numbed,  and  beaten  down,  and  spiritless.  Well, 
well !  I  believe  it  was  good  for  him  and  for  many 
others  in  like  case ;  who  had  to  learn  by  that  loss,  that 
the  soul  of  man  cannot  stand  or  lean  upon  any  human 
prop,  however  strong,  and  wise,  and  good ;  but  that 
He  upon  whom  alone  it  can  stand  and  lean  will  knock 
away  all  such  props  in  His  own  wise  and  merciful  way, 
until  there  is  no  ground  or  stay  left  but  Himself,  the 
Rock  of  Ages,  upon  whom  alone  a  sure  foundation  for 
every  soul  of  man  is  laid. 

As  he  wearily  labored  at  his  line,  the  thought 
struck  him,  "  It  may  all  be  false,  a  mere  newspaper 
lie,"  and  he  strode  up  to  the  recumbent  smoker. 

"  Let  me  look  at  the  paper,"  said  he. 

"  Nothing  else  in  it,"  answered  the  other,  handing  it 


FINIS.  435 

up  to  him  listlessly. — "  Hullo,  Brown  !  what's  the 
matter,  old  fellow — ain't  you  well  ?" 

"Where  is  it?"  said  Tom,  turning  over  the  leaves, 
his  hands  trembling,  and  his  eyes  swimming,  so  that  he 
could  not  read. 

"What?  What  are  you  looking  for?"  said  his 
friend,  jumping  up  and  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

"That — about  Arnold,"  said  Tom. 

"  Oh,  here,"  said  the  other,  putting  his  finger  on  the 
paragraph.  Tom  read  it  over  and  over  again  ;  there 
could  be  no  mistake  of  identity,  though  the  account  was 

•/  ' 

short  enough. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he  at  last,  dropping  the  paper. 
"  I  shall  go  for  a  walk  ;  don't  you  and  Herbert  wait 
supper  for  me."  And  away  he  strode,  up  over  the 
moor  at  the  back  of  the  house,  to  be  alone,  and  master 
his  grief  if  possible. 

His  friend  looked  after  him,  sympathizing  and  won- 
dering, and,  knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  walked 
over  to  Herbert.  After  a  short  parley,  they  walked 
together  up  to  the  house. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  confounded  newspaper  has  spoiled 
Brown's  fun  for  this  trip." 

"  How  odd  that  he  should  be  so  fond  of  his  old 
master,"  said  Herbert.  Yet  they  also  were  both 
public-school  men. 

The  two,  however,  notwithstanding  Tom's  prohibi- 
tion, waited  supper  for  him,  and  had  everything  ready 
when  he  came  back  some  half-an-hour  afterwards.  But 


436  TOM   BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

he  could  not  join  in  their  cheerful  talk,  and  the  party 
was  soon  silent,  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  all  three. 
One  thing  only  had  Tom  resolved,  and  that  was,  that 
he  couldn't  stay  in  Scotland  any  longer ;  he  felt  an 
irresistible 'longing  to  get  to  Rugby,  and  then  home, 
and  soon  broke  it  to  the  others,  who  had  too  much  tact 
to  oppose. 

So  by  daylight  the  next  morning  he  was  marching 
through  Ross-shire,  and  in  the  evening  hit  the  Caledo- 
nian canal,  took  the  next  steamer,  and  travelled  as 
fast  as  boat  and  railway  could  carry  him  to  the  Rugby 
station. 

As  he  walked  up  to  the  town,  he  felt  shy  and  afraid 
of  being  seen,  and  took  the  back  streets ;  why,  he 
didn't  know,  but  he  followed  his  instinct.  At  the 
school-gates  he  made  a  dead  pause ;  there  was  not  a 
soul  in  the  quadrangle — all  was  lonely,  and  silent, 
and  sad.  So  with  another  effort  he  strode  through 
the  quadrangle,  and  into  the  School-house  offices. 

He  found  the  little  matron  in  her  room  in  deep 
mourning ;  shook  her  hand,  tried  to  talk,  and  moved 
nervously  about :  she  was  evidently  thinking  of  the 
same  subject  as  he,  but  he  couldn't  begin  talking. 

"Where  shall  I  find  Thomas?"  said  he  at  last, 
getting  desperate. 

"  In  the  servants'  hall,  I  think,  sir.  But  won't 
you  take  anything?"  said  the  matron,  looking  rather 
disappointed. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  he,  and  strode  off  again  to 


437 


find  the  old  Verger,  who  was  sitting  in  this  little  den 
as  of  old,  puzzling  over  hieroglyphics. 

He  looked  up  through  his  spectacles,  as  Tom  seized 
his  hand  and  wrung  it. 

"Ah  !  you've  heard  all  about  it,  sir,  I  see,"  said  he. 

Tom  nodded,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  shoe-board, 
while  the  old  man  told  his  tale,  and  wiped  his  specta- 
cles, and  fairly  flowed  over  with  quaint,  homely,  hon- 
est sorrow. 

By  the  time  he  had  done,  Tom  felt  much  better. 

"Where  is  he  buried,  Thomas?"  said  he  at  last. 

"  Under  the  altar  in  the  chapel,  sir,"  answered 
Thomas.  "  You'd  like  to  have  the  key,  I  dare  say." 

"  Thank  you,  Thomas  —  Yes,  I  should  very  much." 
And  the  old  man  fumbled  among  his  bunch,  and 
then  got  up,  as  though  he  would  go  with  him  ;  but 
after  a  few  steps  stopped  short,  and  said,  "Perhaps 
you'd  like  to  go  by  yourself,  sir?" 

Tom  nodded,  and  the  bunch  of  keys  were  handed 
to  him,  with  an  injunction  to  be  sure  and  lock  the 
door  after  him,  and  bring  them  back  before  eight 
o'clock. 

He  walked  quickly  through  the  quadrangle  and 
out  into  the  close.  The  longing  which  had  been 
upon  him  and  driven  him  thus  far,  like  the  gad-fly 
in  the  Greek  legends,  giving  him  no  rest  in  mind  or 
body,  seemed  all  of  a  sudden  not  to  be  satisfied,  but 
to  shrivel  up,  and  pall.  "  Why  should  I  go  on  ?  It's 
no  use,"  he  thought,  and  threw  himself  at  full  length 


438  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

on  the  turf,  and  looked  vaguely  and  listlessly  at  all 
the  well-known  objects.  There  were  a  few  of  the 
town  boys  playing  cricket,  their  wicket  pitched  on 
the  best  piece  in  the  middle  of  the  big-side  ground, 
a  sin  about  equal  to  sacrilege  in  the  eyes  of  a  cap- 
tain of  the  eleven.  He  was  very  nearly  getting  up 
to  go  and  send  them  off.  "  Pshaw  !  they  won't  re- 
member me.  They've  more  right  there  than  I,"  he 
muttered.  And  the  thought  that  his  sceptre  had 
departed,  and  his  mark  was  wearing  out,  came  home 
to  him  for  the  first  time,  and  bitterly  enough.  He 
was  lying  on  the  very  spot  where  the  fights  came  off; 
where  he  himself  had  fought  six  years  ago  his  first  and 
last  battle.  He  conjured  up  the  scene  till  he  could 
almost  hear  the  shouts  of  the  ring,  and  East's  whis- 
per in  his  ear ;  and  looking  across  the  close  to  the 
Doctor's  private  door,  half  expected  to  see  it  open, 
and  the  tall  figure  in  cap  and  gown  come  striding 
under  the  elm-trees  towards  him. 

No,  no !  that  sight  could  never  be  seen  again. 
There  was  no  flag  flying  on  the  round  tower !  the 
School-house  Avindows  were  all  shuttered  up :  and 
when  the  flag  went  up  again,  and  the  shutters  came 
down,  it  would  be  to  welcome  a  stranger.  All  that 
was  left  on  earth  of  him  whom  he  had  honored,  was 
lying  cold  and  still  under  the  chapel  floor.  He  would 
go  in  and  see  the  place  once  more,  and  then  leave  it 
once  for  all.  New  men  and  new  methods  might  do 
for  other  people  ;  let  those  who  would  worship  the 


FINIS.  439 

rising  star ;  he  at  least  would  be  faithful  to  the  sun 
which  had  set.  And  so  he  got  up  and  walked  to  the 
chapel  door  and  unlocked  it,  fancying  himself  the 
only  mourner  in  all  the  broad  land,  and  feeding  on 
his  own  selfish  sorrow. 

He  passed  through  the  vestibule,  and  then  paused 
for  a  moment  to  glance  over  the  empty  benches.  His 
heart  was  still  proud  and  high,  and  he  walked  up  to 
the  seat  which  he  had  last  occupied  as  a  sixth-form 
boy,  and  sat  himself  down  there  to  collect  his  thoughts. 

And,  truth  to  tell,  they  needed  collecting  and  set- 
ting in  order  not  a  little.  The  memories  of  eight 
years  were  all  dancing  through  his  brain,  and  car- 
rying him  about  whither  they  would ;  while  beneath 
them  all,  his  heart  was  throbbing  with  the  dull  sense 
of  a  loss  that  could  never  be  made  up  to  him.  The 
rays  of  the  evening  sun  came  solemnly  through  the 
painted  windows  above  his  head,  and  fell  in  gorgeous 
colors  on  the  opposite  wall,  and  the  perfect  stillness 
soothed  his  spirit  by  little  and  little.  And  he  turned 
to  the  pulpit,  and  looked  at  it,  and  then,  leaning  for- 
ward with  his  head  on  his  hands,  groaned  aloud.  "  If 
he  could  only  have  seen  the  Doctor  again  for  one  five 
minutes  ;  have  told  him  all  that  was  in  his  heart,  what 
he  owed  to  him,  how  he  loved  and  reverenced  him,  and 
would  by  God's  help  follow  his  steps  in  life  and  death, 
he  could  have  borne  it  all  without  a  murmur.  But 
that  he  should  have  gone  away  for  ever  without  know- 
ing it  all,  was  too  much  to  bear." "But  am  I  sure 


440  TOM  BROWN'S  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

that  he  does  not  know  it  all  ?" — the  thought  made 
him  start — "  May  he  not  even  now  be  near  me,  in 
this  very  chapel  ?  If  he  be,  am  I  sorrowing  as  he 
would  have  me  sorrow — as  I  should  wish  to  have  sor- 
rowed when  I  shall  meet  him  again?" 

He  raised  himself  up  and  looked  round ;  and  after 
a  minute  rose  and  walked  humbly  down  to  the  lowest 
bench,  and  sat  down  on  the  very  seat  which  he  had 
occupied  on  his  first  Sunday  at  Rugby.  And  then 
the  old  memories  rushed  back  again,  but  softened  and 
subdued,  and  soothing  him  as  he  let  himself  be  car- 
ried away  by  them.  And  he  looked  up  at  the  great 
painted  window  above  the  altar,  and  remembered  how 
when  a  little  boy  he  used  to  try  not  to  look  through 
it  at  the  elm-trees  and  the  rooks,  before  the  painted 
glass  came — and  the  subscription  for  the  painted  glass, 
and  the  letter  he  wrote  home  for  money  to  give  to  it. 
And  there,  down  below,  was  the  very  name  of  the  boy 
who  sat  on  his  right  hand  on  that  first  day,  scratched 
rudely  in  the  oak  panelling. 

And  then  came  the  thought  of  all  his  old  school- 
fellows ;  and  form  after  form  of  boys,  nobler,  and 
braver,  and  purer  than  he,  rose  up  and  seemed  to 
rebuke  him.  Could  he  not  think  of  them,  and  what 
they  had  felt  and  were  feeling,  they  who  had  honored 
and  loved  from  the  first  the  man  whom  he  had  taken 
years  to  know  and  love?  Could  he  not  think  of  those 
yet  dearer  to  him  who  was  gone,  who  bore  his  name 
and  shared  his  blood,  and  were  now  without  a  husband 


FINIS.  441 

or  a  father  ?  Then  the  grief  which  he  began  to  share 
with  others  became  gentle  and  holy,  and  he  rose  up 
once  more,  and  walked  up  the  steps  to  the  altar ;  and 
while  the  tears  flowed  freely  down  his  cheeks,  knelt 
down  humbly  and  hopefully,  to  lay  down  there  his 
share  of  a  burden  which  had  proved  itself  too  heavy 
for  him  to  bear  in  his  own  strength. 

Here  let  us  leave  him — where  better  could  we  leave 
him,  than  at  the  altar,  before  which  he  had  first 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  glory  of  his  birthright,  and 
felt  the  drawing  of  the  bond  which  links  all  living 
souls  together  in  one  brotherhood — at  the  grave  beneath 
the  altar  of  him  who  had  opened  his  eyes  to  see  that 
glory,  and  softened  his  heart  till  it  could  feel  that  bond? 

And  let  us  not  be  hard  on  him,  if  at  that  moment 
his  soul  is  fuller  of  the  tomb  and  him  who  lies  there, 
than  of  the  altar  and  Him  of  whom  it  speaks.  Such 
stages  have  to  be  gone  through,  I  believe,  by  all 
young  and  brave  souls,  who  must  win  their  way 
through  hero-worship  to  the  worship  of  Him  who  is 
the  King  and  Lord  of  heroes.  For  it  is  only  through 
our  mysterious  human  relationships,  through  the  love 
and  tenderness  and  purity  of  mothers,  and  sisters,  and 
wives,  through  the  strength  and  courage  and  wisdom 
of  fathers,  and  brothers,  and  teachers,  that  we  can 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  Him,  in  whom  alone  the 
love,  and  the  tenderness,  and  the  purity,  and  the 
strength,  and  the  courage,  and  the  wisdom  of  all  these 
dwell  for  ever  and  ever  in  perfect  fulness. 


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